


fools

by demjinyves



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and fluff and eventual smut, F/M, POV First Person, Slice of Life, always first person pov, baseball? even though I know nothing about it?, fuck y/n, fuckboy!Mark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 11:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demjinyves/pseuds/demjinyves
Summary: Only fools fall for you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only fools fall for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone say thank you to Troye Sivan for giving us the blue neighborhood album in 2015

“Are we seriously doing this right now?”

I watch as his eyes fell to the floor and mine narrowed. It’s hard to tell if he’s guilty or bothered, but at this point, it seems like both.

 _Say yes_ , I silently dare him, _Say yes and get it over with Mark Tuan_.

“Look, it’s not you, babe—“

“Then what is it?”

He licks his lips, finally raising his head with that dazzling smile that lit up any room. He really should learn to control himself. It’s his looks combined with that personality that got him into this mess.

“I’m sorry—“

“You’re sorry? You’re _sorry_? We were supposed to meet my parents this weekend, you said that—“

“I said that you deserve so much better.” He raises his hands but stops abruptly. Licking the roof of his mouth, Mark shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Really. It’s not you, you’re so great. It’s me. I shouldn’t have led you to think this was more than what it is. Was.”

The silence is so thick, you could dip a butter knife into it. Or the tears could evaporate right into the air.

“You take care of yourself, beautiful.”

And just like that, he walks away.

It is a lovely spring day on campus. The flowers have bloomed, falling as the wind carried petals and scattered them all along the grounds. The sun is shining and everyone is counting down the weeks to spring break.

On this day, another unsuspecting girl who thought she could change Mark Tuan with enough time and effort got played like a fiddle.

“He’s really trying to make his quota before spring break starts, huh?”

“Mm,” I hummed absently. I can’t think of a smart remark back as I stare at the girl he’d left behind. Crying into her hands, walking back to her friends. No doubt to comfort her, but inevitably to say, “I told you so” or “We warned you”.

And it doesn’t sit right with me. In fact, it used to piss me off to no end that someone like Mark could get to these girls. Lately, I’m surprised no one has caught onto his whole, “It’s not you, you’re perfect” and the gross, “I shouldn’t have led you on” speech.

Yet, they all wouldn’t _mind_ being with him. They wouldn’t say no to him when given the opportunity. The girls Mark has been with have all more or less followed the same pattern, at least, from what I can observe.

Girl meets Mark. Girl pretends not to want Mark. Mark wants girl.

Mark and girl have a happy movie montage of sexual harmony.

Girl shows signs of trying to change Mark because of insecurities that come with his notoriety.

Mark dumps girl. So here we are, all caught up. It’s a circle, a sick cycle.

I turn back to Yugyeom just as he raises his brows at me. I know that look. I dread that look.

“Please don’t start, it’s such a beautiful day.”

“What?” he scoffs and starts trying to busy himself, flipping through our sea of textbooks and notes. “I’m just saying if I had that kind of power?”

“If you had that kind of power, we wouldn’t be friends.”

For a lot of reasons, Yugyeom was one of the few friends I had in school. Being that it was a private university, I got accepted with a scholarship based partly on merit, partly on luck. I’ve long stopped trying to decipher how much of either amounted to that achievement.

Yugyeom got a full ride, but he came from private school all his life. His outstanding quality was his dedication to his hometown’s baseball team. In fact, the school offered him a full ride just to play on their team.

Which is how he met Mark two years ago, who was now varsity captain of the KU Tigers.

Yugyeom had met me at orientation and a few of the seminars the board enforced all special scholarship students to attend, but it wasn’t until a month into his first practice did he actually approach me.

“You know, captain still really likes you.”

I try not to throw my notebook at him because I like Yugyeom. He wasn’t a meathead like most of his teammates and he knew how to take a hint. But his one fatal flaw was that he couldn’t help being one of the youngest on the team, and naturally, hero-worshipped his upperclassmen.

“I swear if he’s putting you up to this again—“

Yugyeom held a colorful textbook up, shielding himself from my wrath. “I’m just saying! I mean, he doesn’t need to force me to ask you out for him, he’s always flirting with you. That says a lot!”

“And as a friend to us both, you should know by now,” I drawl out tiredly. “I would rather shoot myself in the foot than take him seriously. You see what he’s like. He doesn’t mean it. He’s just a self-centered, arrogant, insensitive jerk who knows he’s good looking.”

“So you admit it? You think he’s goo – oh my god, please!” He falls down to the grass, dodging the water bottle I nearly chucked at his face. Grunting as he sat up, Yugyeom whined, “You’re so defensive, are you sure you really don’t like captain at all?”

I resort to ignoring him, knowing where the conversation was leading.

It wasn’t that I hated Mark. Honestly, I just hated how he acted and what being involved with him meant for someone. Like any girl deserved to fall at his feet and it would be her greatest honor. Or that anyone he decides he “likes” is entitled to melt into his hands.

Instinctively, I scan the quad for any sign of the devil because knowing my luck, just thinking about him would make him appear. And I did not need to see more of him than I already did in class.

I know it must be incredibly flattering to some people for someone like Mark to find me attractive enough to constantly annoy and have his friends “hint” at the idea of dating him. And I get how it may seem appealing to have someone hopelessly pine after you.

But this was real life and in real life, incessantly being told how lucky I am and how enviable it is to have caught his attention doesn’t change anything.

If liking someone means having to deal with unwanted attention, then Mark should go like a great white shark.

Okay, that was harsh.

He should go like a raging honey badger.

Besides, if he likes me so much, why was he dating a different girl every month? He doesn’t get to have both. The last thing I need in my life is a selfish guy.

I looked up from my notes when Yugyeom taps me on the shoulder and holds up his phone. 4:25.

“Pray for me,” I mumble as I start packing up. “Thanks for letting me borrow your psych books, by the way.”

“No problem! Captain actually lent me some since I’m borrowing—“

“For your sake,” I cut him off with a small grin, “You better wash your hands after touching them. We don’t know where they’ve have been.”

🌙

“Good afternoon, everyone, how are we all today?”

I mumble along with the rest of the class as the professor looks around expectantly. She was relatively young and had that sort of high school guidance counselor air about her as opposed to a professor. Naturally, teaching a Development of Gender Roles psychology course fit. Whenever our discussions became a little too heated, she put on her gentle, “Now, now, everyone” voice.

Despite our lackluster response, she still smiles that kind, motherly smile. “I see we’re all waiting on spring break so why don’t we get started? Today, we’ll be watching a film produced by our very own students in the psychology department who conducted a study of different gendered responses to domestic violence.”

As everyone pretty much gets ready to put their heads down and the designated light switch kid has his hand on the switch, the door opens with a loud, droning click.

Three guesses who it is.

Everyone’s friendly campus menace and my personal favorite, Mark Tuan.

“Sorry, sorry,” he nods to the class and the professor as he sits down in one of the few available seats in the front. With my great luck, he’s a few good chairs away from me. His disheveled appearance doesn’t go unnoticed as one of his friends behind him snickers and grabs his shoulder.

His hair is pushed to one side where it normally fell deliberately messy over his eyes. His baseball jersey was buttoned up the wrong way where one had clearly been missed. To top it off, one end of his belt hung sticking out at his side instead of looped properly around his waist.

He’s honestly such a sleaze.

I take out my book to take notes on the film as Professor Seddon excuses him. But before the lights go off, she says in that gentle guidance counselor voice that I will later resent, “Mark, do you and Jackson mind just sitting behind Y/N? I want to make sure everyone can see.”

In the back of my mind, I can faintly hear Yugyeom’s shrill laughter because that’s just my luck.

Behind me, I hear between whispers that may as well be nails down a chalkboard drawing closer. I’ll eat my book if I have to turn around before this class ends.

“Hey love.” I hear Mark say softly as the lights go off and he slips into the seat behind me.

I put my head down. It’s going to be a long hour and fifteen minutes.

🌙

“Kim Yugyeom, you better wake up right now!”

I know I look like a crazy person knocking on my best friend’s dorm. People could be having their day off, sleeping well into the night, relaxing after a long day of classes. Can’t I just wait until I see him tomorrow?

I know what this looks like. And I don’t care. I’m in a hurry to go home, I want my notes, and taking my anger out on my best friend’s door made me feel a lot better.

I hear a click at the door and take a step back only to find a key slipped into the knob, belonging to the hand of the pain in my ass that caused this whole mess. Figures he’d rather skip class on the day I need to come by the dorm.

Aggravated, I look up at the ceiling. “What do you want, Mark?”

“Nothing.” I don’t even have to look at him to see that he’s grinning from ear to ear in that dazzling way that had people eating out of the palm of his hands. “Just wanted to help, love.”

“Okay, first of all,” I snap and glare right at him, “I am not your love. Second, I don’t need your help.”

I’m right, he is grinning. _Jerk._

“I just want to talk.”

“Well, I don’t. So go away.”

“Ah, Y/N, you wound me,” Mark licks his lips. Is he doing this on purpose? “I live in this suite too, you know. And people are going to complain to our RA about the noise. What if you get banned from visiting me?”

I wanted to laugh in his face. “You don’t seriously think I’m here to see you?”

“A boy can dream,” he answers, half smug, half hopeful.

I can’t believe people actually find him charming.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I mentally give Yugyeom another five seconds to get the door before I seriously maim him the next time I see him. “Well, you thought wrong. What do you want, anyway?”

“You.” Leaning his shoulder against the wall, Mark slips a hand through his hair in what I can only assume he thought was a killer move. So I turn away and start banging again on the door.

“Really, I mean it. I want you, Y/N. I want you and me to go out, tonight.” I have to stop because at this point, not only am I not going to get Yugyeom to open this door, but Mark was not going to quit. If it was even possible, I think I was starting to get war flashbacks of similar conversations we’ve had.

I have to give it to him, Mark really was good looking, and it was such a shame that he knew it so well. He had that air about him, like the sun shined out of his ass and he could convince you it did. There was a reason he had this notoriety that followed him, the reputation of being able to sway just about anyone, and at the end of it all, he remained untouchable.

No girl could tie him to her, he was too free. Too put off by the severity of committed relationships. Too busy focusing on his future conveniently when things got too serious.

Or whatever his excuses were. I didn’t know which ones actually had any truth to them. I couldn’t care less.

Because no matter what, he seemed to keep getting away with it. At the end of the day, he somehow doesn’t have miles of women scorned lining up to avenge their damaged pride. Because, “Oh, he’s such a nice guy!”

Well, I don’t buy it.

“So? What do you say?” He flashes me another grin.

“No. Same as last time. And the time before that. And the time before that. Oh,” I tap my chin and feign contemplation, “And the time before that.”

He straightens up and curls his fingers over the doorknob. I flinch when his hand brushes against the bare skin of my arm, immediately wanting to step away, but leans his face down until our eyes are level.

Maybe he’s learned to adapt because he doesn’t lean any closer and we’re a good foot apart.

More power to me, I can just stick my fist out and punch his mouth if he tries anything.

“When are you going to stop playing hard to get? You’re really starting to hurt my feelings.”

I immediately take a long step back, hands shaking at my sides. Not because I wanted to hit him so badly, but because he was just so frustrating to be around.

“This is why I don’t like you!” I raise my voice, beyond caring about the rest of the dorm at this point as I gather my backpack from the floor. Echoing in the hall, I can hear the clicks and slight creaks from other suites.

“You bother me in class, you get my own friend to bother me when you can’t. You’re completely full of yourself, you don’t care about how anyone feels. You’re not even nice, Mark! I don’t think there’s ever been a time when you were actually _nice_ to me, and we’ve been going to the same school for _two years_! So get it through that thick head of yours that I don’t want to date you and I will never want to date you. If you can’t take a hint, read my lips: leave me alone.”

As I stormed past him, I hear a single click. Behind me, I swear I hear Mark’s voice reverberate against the door and echo down the hall.

“She wants me.”

🌙

The house is warm as I enter, the quiet storm that’d quaked in my mind was left in the train after the hour and a half long ride. Not forgotten, but kept at bay. For now.

“Dad?” I call out as I drape my jacket over the couch. “Dad, I’m home.”

“In the kitchen!”

_Oh lord._

Dropping my bag on the counter in the middle of the room, I lean my elbows against it and watch my dad try to read a cookbook and make dinner at the same time. This was becoming a regular occurrence for this house, much to my dismay.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. He was one of the most hardworking people I know. Between having to work on an office salary and raising a girl, I’m fortunate enough to have him as my best friend. But he absolutely can’t cook to save our lives.

He goes through these shifting phases of trying to be more domestic, fill in the mom role that was left empty by – well, my mom. So every now and then, for the past seventeen years give or take, he’s been trying to do more than he really needs. I suppose he has survivor’s guilt, the survivor being him and what he’s surviving is single fatherhood from the time he was 18 years old.

When mom got pregnant, he had proposed because it was the right thing to do. But from what I know, she was too much of a free spirit and in an oddly noble way, too self-righteous. She wanted to marry for love, not because it was good for me, or “the right thing to do”.

And if it was fine with my dad, it was fine with me. I like to think I’ve been raised to the best of his ability. I’m sure I have some underlying emotional imbalances, but between trying to get through school and having to deal with Mark, I don’t need to start looking into those deeply sated mommy issues.

As I hear the stove turn off, I look up to find my dad with a defeated smile and the cookbook headed for the trash.

“What’s that face, kid?”

A corner of my lip twitches a little. “Guess. I dare you.”

“Ah, that boy again, huh?” He shakes his head. “It must be so hard being you. To have the captain of the varsity baseball team pine away at you like this. Man, oh man.”

“Dad!”

He raises a brow expectantly. “He isn’t stalking you, is he?”

“No.”

“Does he try to touch you?”

“No. I wouldn’t let him anyway.”

“So give him a chance.” He says it so easily, I put my head down on the cold countertop. “Oh, stop being so dramatic, bud. I highly doubt this guy can be so bad.”

My hands go to rub my face as if I could rub off the very idea.

“Mark Tuan is a five-foot nine living, breathing, walking, _talking_ one hundred and forty-pound package of testosterone.”

“You sure you want a university degree? Sounds to me like you should be in theater.”

Dad simply shrugs when I glare at him. He walks around the island to stroke my hair and I welcome his comfort, but not his encouragement.

“I hate to sound like Yugyeom, kiddo, but ask yourself this,” he says too casually, “Do you really even know him?”

“I don’t need to. He’s arrogant, pretty much hooked up with everything that has a pulse, he doesn’t know when to quit.” I shrug as my own defeat sets in. “How can you even defend someone like that, dad?”

I’m genuinely curious as to what could possess my dad to be so blasé with the fact that this guy, Mark Tuan, every father’s waking nightmare, was pestering me all the time. Maybe to him, it was funny or even relatable since he was once a “hot-blooded young man in college”. He wouldn’t have me if he wasn’t, but shouldn’t that say something?

And it hits me as I watch him tap a finger to his chin, horrified, that he either doesn’t understand at all or he understands perfectly and is okay with it, so he’s trying to come to Mark’s defense.

“My sweet, darling daughter. Apple of my eye. Light of my life.”

“Ugh.” I groan again as he starts to laugh and swat at him repeatedly until he puts his hands up in front of him.

“I’m just saying, everyone has their phases!” Dad closes his index finger and thumb around my cheek lightly, which normally would have made me smile. “We can sit here and complain all night about it, but you can’t convince me otherwise that that boy has a thing for you. He’s just too emotionally inept to express it. And you, my dear, should expect him to find comfort elsewhere after being rejected.”

I scowl with disgust. “And why is that?”

“Because you are absolutely terrifying,” he smiles so lovingly, I can’t help laughing. “And college boys are trash. Now, let’s get out of here, I’m starving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/wangdeux) if you want, it's free!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember those underlying mommy issues I might have buried somewhere deep in the back of my mind?
> 
> I wonder if I could use those as an excuse to plead guilty if I put Mark Tuan six feet under the ground.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just go on one date with him.”

It’s all I can do not to spit out my bite of food because for starters, it’s really good, so I don’t want to. Second, we’re in public, but just hearing it said out loud makes me scowl through bites.

One date with Mark? I’d rather not.

“You’re the weirdest dad ever,” I shake my head and take another piece of meat off the grill, but he leans over to grab my bowl of rice and piles it high with everything else.

“What I mean is,” he points out as if he’s pitching a revolutionary idea, “Just go on one date and get him off your back. Go to a movie so he won’t have to talk to you. Or a wrestling match. And then just never go on another date with him ever again.”

I love my dad, but sometimes I wish he’d remember that I was his daughter. I try not to laugh when he points his chopsticks to me with that ‘You know it’s a great idea’ smile. Because it’s not a bad idea, honestly.

“I’ve thought about it.”

He waves his chopsticks at me, nodding and humming in agreement, so I happily burst his bubble.

“But I have my dignity. That counts for something, you know.”

“Alright, sarcasm, I can take a hint.”

“At least you can.”

I don’t know if it’s because I completely lost my composure earlier today or if it was just my pride, but I felt like I needed to justify my feelings. I mean, it was perfectly justifiable, right?

In the two years I’ve known Mark, I can safely say that I don’t care about how great he is or how great everyone seemed to think he is. Why did I have to get to know him before I said that? Or why does almost everyone ask me if I know him after I’ve said it?

I get that everyone deserves a chance to show that rumors and first impressions don’t make them who they are, but if I’m honest – and I am to anyone that matters – I’ve seen enough girls he’s walked away from to know that I don’t ever want to get to know Mark. Intimately or otherwise.

There is nothing wrong with guarding myself against a patiently ticking time bomb of clichés and inevitable heartache. That’s not the ending I want.

Even if I did have time to date, it wouldn’t be someone selfish. If my parents’ situation taught me anything, I’d be an idiot to give in to someone like him.

“I don’t want to give him the satisfaction.” My voice comes out more dejected than firm. Ashamedly, more defiant than indifferent. “Mark can have anyone he wants. Just not me.”

🌙

“I’m sorry. Really sorry. Like, really really sorry.”

I’m not usually a short-tempered person. I’m full of nothing if not pity and understanding, the last thing I ever am is resentful.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

But Yugyeom didn’t need to conveniently remember that when he purposely left me outside of his dorm. Like a psycho, letting me ram my fist away on the door and letting his whole building know that I will never in my life ever date his roommate and team captain.

He deserved to sulk just a little more.

“So sorry, that I texted you seven times to say how sorry I am.” He clasps his hands in front of him and pouts. The mother I never knew hidden inside me nags at the girl I am to just forgive him.

I lowered my book. “And?”

“And?” He looked away, trying to figure out what more he could say. It’s not his fault, I blame Mark.

For what?

I don’t know, I just know I can’t blame Yugyeom for his innocence and overall eagerness to please. He was young and for him, campus life involved being around his teammates too often for him not to want to please Mark. Which is why I have to make sure he doesn’t.

“And you promise not to do it again?”

“I promise! I promise, I won’t,” he tries not to whine and wraps his arms around me, like a lost child.

Ignoring my fallen book, I pat his back and forgive him. “You better not, I almost punched him in the face.”

“But it’s just that he—“

“I know.”

“And he said—“

“I know.”

“You’re so stubborn, honestly.” He lets go of me to pick up my book from the grass, dusting off any dirt or dew, before handing it to me chewing the inside of his cheek dejectedly. “I heard what you said, you know.”

“And you heard what he said,” I scoffed. “Come on, he’s so arrogant. ‘She wants me’? What a prick.”

Yugyeom grinned, much to my dread. It was coming back often lately. Maybe the springtime was getting to him, making him frisky. I should set him up with a friend, get his mind off my love life and back on his neglected one. Because between the two of us, only mine was nonexistent.

Before he started, I quickly pointed out, “You promised you’d never do it again.”

“I promised I wouldn’t do _that_ ever again,” he countered easily. “I just don’t get why you hate him so much. Captain isn’t a bad guy, y’know. He’s a good player, he leads the team, he got us to playoffs last year. He always throws the best suite parties and his dad—“

“He’s good at annoying me to death, he’s kind of a total jerk, he’s got you pissing me off for almost two years now,” I count off on my fingers, “I’m pretty sure you’ve called me drunk at those suite parties asking me to bring an ice pack and a bucket, and he couldn’t take a hint even if I carved the words, ‘I don’t want to date you’ into a brick and slapped him in the face with it.”

Yugyeom looks back at me like he’s been sucking on a lemon. A normal reaction, we have these conversations at least once a day. If we weren’t friends, I’d probably ignore him and we never would have spoken after that first time Mark had used Yugyeom as his wingman. But at this point, he and I had too much history to go back.

And I wouldn’t tell him or he’d let it get to his head, but Yugyeom was one of the few easygoing people I met here that didn’t care how much I wanted nothing to do with Mark. He found it hilarious.

Yet in an ironically messed up sort of way, he meant well by it. It’s the thought that counts. I suppose.

I don’t know, I’ve grown so used to ignoring him every time he brings up the perpetual thorn in my side, I’ve somehow managed to maintain a healthy friendship with him in spite of it.

But I pat his knee and look out at the campus around us. “I know you mean well. Just let me enjoy the day before Gender Psych, okay?”

The sun warmed our backs as we sat at the steps that led to the library and drank our imitation Starbucks coffee they sold here. Our school was beautiful this time of year, not a bad thought could put a damper on my mood with flower petals falling like snow. The breeze scattered them across the grounds and there was something about warmer weather, spring break coming up, and everything in bloom that made me feel just a little lighter.

Like things would be different after this semester and I start my last year in the fall. What am I waiting for?

🌙

Oh, that’s right. One of those things would be looking forward to never seeing Mark Tuan again.

“I mean, why is a fuckboy called a fuckboy? Isn’t that like, a compliment?”

And his stupid friends.

“No, Jackson,” Eric shook his head condescendingly and waved his hand. “You don’t get it. Girls just call guys that to feel better about themselves or something.”

Idiots.

I don’t think I’ve ever resented a professor before the professor put me in a group with Jackson Wang, Eric Nam, and Amber Liu. Well, no, Amber was a nice girl, pretty too, in that whole uniquely-her-own kind of way. With her unmistakable boyish cut and chic style, I had almost mistaken her for Jackson’s sister, but turns out there’s no relation – fortunately – and she’s actually quite a bit older than me.

She usually took my side when it came to class discussions because she was a girl too, but also just a decent human being with common sense.

Then again, I shouldn’t be so harsh. Like my dad said, college boys are trash.

Without thinking, Amber and I exchanged looks. I wrinkled my nose and she mirrored me with a knowing grin. As if to tell me to just let it go, that correcting them wouldn’t get anywhere. The sad truth is, I agree with her. No amount of my pride was worth it.

I don’t hate Jackson, I really don’t. Just like I don’t hate Mark. Jackson was an international student and I could respect that about him, find his multilingual skills admirable even. But he was Mark’s right-hand man. And those two together were insufferable.

“What do you think, Y/N?” Jackson asks me eagerly and I look quickly at him so he couldn’t catch my exasperated exchange with Amber. If he had a tail, he’d probably be wagging it.

I’m sure out of everyone Mark is friends with, out of the entire baseball team with the exception of my best friend, Jackson was the most persistent to get in my good graces.

You can’t hate someone who went out of their way to be exceptionally nice to you. Especially when they were genuinely nice.

“I think it’s evening the double standard.” I shrug when he and Eric stare at me, no doubt expecting me to explain.

The door clicks quietly among all the group discussions, but of course, who else could it be?

From the corner of my eye, Mark lifts an empty desk to join our group, nodding at our professor as an apology of his ever-present lateness. Jackson pushes Eric as he sits up to make room for his best friend, prompting the other boy to make room so Mark could squeeze between Jackson and Amber.

I thank my stars for Amber.

“What’d I miss?” Mark breathes out with a smile. He must have run here because slight beads of sweat were running down his brow, but of course, he looks like he stepped out of a sports ad.

Jackson is quick to point out that I was just talking.

I take it back, you can hate someone who went out of their way to be nice to you. Even if for just a little while.

“We were talking about societal expectations in men and women.” I keep my voice uncontrolled and look at the space between Jackson and Mark.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel bad for snapping at Mark yesterday. But that doesn’t mean I want to embarrass him in class or make it seem like something was going on. I got enough unwanted attention as it is.

Eric nodded. “Yeah, and Jackson was talking about how girls got bad reps if they sleep around. And then I called him a fuckboy.”

“I just don’t get how it’s bad!” Folding his arms across his chest, Jackson leaned back. “It means you’re good at it, right? Like good at, y’know, it’s supposed to be a compliment? I hear Y/N calling Mark a fuckboy all the time.”

It’s official. I do hate Jackson Wang.

My ears turn red as Amber snickers beside me and I keep my eyes firmly trained on that very interesting wall behind the new addition of Mark’s friends I hated.

I hope, I pray, I _dare_ Mark to say something so I can call him out on it and embarrass him in front of his friends. It was more so out of spite for Jackson and my fear that any of them, _especially_ Mark could think that there was something going on between us. Anything at all.

“Jackson.” Amber’s voice is warm and chiding like she’s scolding a child. “You remember how you were saying girls shouldn’t get criticized and called names for sleeping around?”

He nods, completely sure of himself.

“Well, it’s like that, but for boys. We finally have a name for them.”

His mouth falls open as if it’s actually surprising. Or offensive. So much that he takes off his cap and fixes his hair, something I notice he does when he’s thinking about what to say.

Jackson turns to Mark, who I dare not look at, and swats his shoulder. I hear him whisper something along the lines of, “Man, I don’t think she wants you,” and try to chase out the urge to lunge out of my seat at them.

🌙

I should have known, honestly, that at some point in my life there will come a time when I would be stuck with the one person I never want to be stuck with.

No, I’m not talking about marriage, I’m talking about the fact that the universe is out to make sure that I don’t finish school unless Mark Tuan gets his way somehow.

Of course, he would, why wouldn’t the world try to appease him in favor of completely disregarding me?

I stop my frustrated stomps to lean against one side of the hall as other students continued past me. Maybe my dad was right, maybe I should have changed my major to theater.

I’m making such a big deal out of nothing. For crying out loud, it was just a group study. This was college, this was real life. My life. And it was not becoming a cliché, I refuse to let it, I won’t let it. What was the point in getting so worked up over something so silly?

“Hey, hey Y/N! Hey!”

Why was it that every time I tried to work past my slowly shrinking temper, the cause of it just took it upon himself to show up whenever he pleased?

I shut my eyes tightly, breathing slowly through my nose as Mark’s voice echoed down the hall.

_You can do this. You can. I believe in you. Just… talk to him. Do it now, get it over with, then you can go home and tell your dad all about it and you’ll laugh about it over dinner. Maybe over barbecue again. Or pizza? Or—_

“You really bolted out of there, huh? You in a hurry or something?”

“Mhm,” I managed through pursed lips before opening my eyes. And there he was, standing just a little too close, but not close enough to offend me.

Crap. He’s adapting.

Clearing his throat, Mark leans against the same wall and looks down at me with that same confidence he always meets me with.

“So.” He bites his lip, grinning. Always grinning. “Any ideas for our study yet, partner?”

“Yes, you pulling your weight and me pulling mine,” I answer bluntly. “I’m not going to be the one doing all the work and just wait for you to put your name on it.”

His grin wavers, falling slightly as a nervous breath of laughter escapes him. “Wait, you don’t seriously think I’m going to make you do all this by yourself and… then what?”

“You’re not exactly doing well in this class,” I point out, snippier than I’d like to be. “You’re always late, god knows what you’re doing where—“

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mumbles under his breath, which throws me off.

Usually, Mark was more than happy to give me these smoldering looks, always trying to rile me up and invite me to watch his games or to one of those infamous suite parties that had Yugyeom texting me as he verged between death and whatever came after it.

But he recovers quickly, smiling with that “boyish cute charm” again as he asks silkily, “Would you?”

“Not particularly. Not ever, but you’ve heard that before. Look,” I straighten up and put my hands on my hips, staring him up and down as I lift my chin in defiance. “I mean it. You can’t leave all the work for me to do.”

“And I won’t, love.”

“Please stop before I throw up on you.”

But it only makes him grin wider and his eyes crinkle as he laughs. “If that’s what you’re into. First time for everything, right?”

“Mark!” My hands fall at my sides. “You’re impossible, honestly. You know what, I’ll just ask her to reassign us, I can’t do this with you.”

I turn around to head up to the professor’s office, but in just a few long strides, Mark’s standing in front of me. His hands are up, like he’s approaching a wild animal, all caution and no more laughter.

“Okay, okay, I’m done now. I swear.” He rubs the back of his neck, biting his lip again like he’s thinking. As if he sensing my weariness, he quickly reaches into his bag and pulls out a notebook.

“Look,” Mark says hastily, “I wrote down everything we talked about in class today and I came up with an idea for the study—“

“You already have an idea?”

His brow furrows at my skeptical tone. I couldn’t even help it, I was so used to our exhausting interactions, of being hit on and having to not just deflect all his attempts, but beat them away with a steel bat. It doesn’t occur to me that maybe I should feel guilty for insulting him.

But were we really going to pretend that he didn’t deserve it, even if I’d insulted his work ethic?

Pursing his lips, Mark hands me his notebook open to a page.

First word: “fuckboy”.

I narrowed my eyes up at him.

“Mark. What is this?”

“Well, you were talking about double standards,” he shrugged. “I figure, why not do a study based on gender expectations. We’ll go around campus and ask a hundred different students what they think about girls who sleep around and what they think about guys.”

Alright, I can admit when I’ve made a mistake. Doesn’t mean I like to, but I can.

I hand back his notebook and he takes it, raising his eyebrows at me for a response.

“That’s good,” I blurt out and feel like I’ve been punched. “It’s a great idea, actually. Fifty guys, fifty girls. And we can work on the other variables when she approves of the proposal.”

“Great.” I can’t read the look on his face because for once, Mark’s expression is blank.

“I’ll write the proposal then.” I go to leave, but not before I forget one last thing. “I’m serious about what I said, you need to pull your weight.”

“And I will,” he quickly retorts, defensive even, if his voice wasn’t so soft. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” I shoot back indifferently.

A dense silence gathers between us. I welcome it because, at this point, I never thought it could exist. Even if it’s kind of tense. This is a rare occurrence. This is the first time it’s happening.

Hearing Mark breath out through his nose, he shrugs. “Is that it?”

I shrug back, tilting my head away. “Yeah. I’ll get back to you after she gets back to me this weekend.”

“Alright, cool. So you let me know, love.” He holds up his hand and I don’t miss the small smile he tries to hide when he turns around. He walks away, all long strides on long legs.

Whatever possessed me to watch him walk down the hall until he’s out the door, I hope it goes away. Or that it’s just the same urge to be away from him.

I’m sure it’s the latter.

Maybe this won’t be so bad. I mean, it was only a matter of time before I got stuck with Mark Tuan for the better half of the semester, right?

I can be optimistic. At this point, though, I’d rather be realistic.

Hope for the best. Mark and I get this done without needing to spend more time than necessary, then never see each other again.

But expect the worst.

Remember those underlying mommy issues I might have buried somewhere deep in the back of my mind?

I wonder if I could use those as an excuse to plead guilty if I end up putting Mark Tuan six feet under the ground. I should ask my dad about that when I get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/wangdeux) if you want, it's free!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You’re saying you’d rather wait all night by yourself for a bus to the train than get in a car with me?”
> 
> “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
> 
> “So I guess this wouldn’t be a great time to ask you out?”

“So after all that fluff you talked about not wanting to give him the satisfaction, your professor assigned you to do a four-week study with him?”

“That’s just my luck.”

“That’s hilarious.”

“I hate you so much.”

My dad clapped his hands, his lips pursing together to keep from laughing as Yugyeom looked between us with silent glee.

He was coming home from school for the weekend to visit his parents, so we took the train back to my house. Naturally, I invited him over. He and dad got along pretty well, between their shared love for baseball, bad jokes, and the possibility that Mark and I could one day be together.

I hate them both.

How is this man my father? Was I adopted and dumped on his doorstep by my mother? Did she fake her pregnancy during their time together and just pass me off onto him because he was a sleaze or something?

“She was so mad,” Yugyeom explains to him like I’d won the lottery. Traitor.

“I’m actually still kind of mad.”

“Kid, you’re always mad.” Dad gets up from leaning over the kitchen counter and goes into the fridge. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to celebrate. Yugyeom, you want a beer?”

I watch as my best friend perks up and bounds over next to my dad, exclaiming, “Yeah! Two, please.”

Traitors, this house is full of traitors.

“Why did I even invite you over my house?” I all but seethe.

He turns around and tilts his head, blinking innocently, like a doe. “Because you love hanging out with me?”

“And,” dad puts an arm around him, beers in both hands, “Because he works so hard trying to bring you and my future son-in-law together.”

“I’m running away from home.”

“Drama queen,” he shrugs. “Don’t even know where you get it from, certainly not me.”

“Mom wasn’t like this either?” Yugyeom asks curiously.

No, my mother was never one for theatrics or stress-induced outbursts. She was too busy enjoying her life to the fullest.

Whatever the hell that means. I mean, it’s not like she has a family or anything.

Sensing my change in mood, dad hands Yugyeom a beer and holds up his own. “Cheers, to my new son-in-law!”

“To captain and Y/N!”

They clink bottles, but I can’t bring myself to be baited by their teasing. I can’t help but wonder what my mom was up to, how maybe if she were here more often, I could actually ask her for advice.

She brushed off my dad without so much as even an excuse, I can’t imagine her not knowing how to deal with someone like Mark.

And I know my dad was just teasing. I mean, I hope some – every – part of him wasn’t serious.

“The day Mark and I ever have anything to do with each other is the day hell freezes over.”

The two of them look over at me, pausing their incessant baiting and wedding talk, before sharing a look.

“Stranger things have happened,” dad shrugs.

“Yeah,” Yugyeom nods, “It almost snowed last summer.”

“You know, they say patience is a virtue.” I look pointedly to the two of them.

“Well, kid, you’re not going to be a nun, but you know what I say? Sarcasm is a metric for potential.”

“Wah,” Yugyeom gasps, “Then that means Y/N is going to be a great woman someday.”

Dad grins and clinks beers with him again. “That’s right. My daughter, the great, patient, sarcastic nun.”

“With a temper problem.”

“Only when it comes to that Tuan boy.”

“Because she’s secretly in love with him.”

“Precisely.”

Before either of them can get another word in, I clap the back of Yugyeom’s head with my hand. “Stop talking like I’m not here.”

My dad raises his hands, his shoulders shrinking as a sign of defeat and surrender.

Yugyeom rubs the spot where I’d hit him and mumbles something under his breath, “So unladylike…”

I could have sworn my left eye twitched. “What was that?”

“Nothing, I said nothing!”

My eyes narrow as he quietly drinks his beer, silently daring him to repeat himself.

I love him, I promise I do and I know it looks like I don’t, but it’s like having a little brother who always goes into your room and goes through your stuff after you explicitly told him not to. Or a puppy that knows better than to pee in the house, but he does it anyway.

What am I supposed to do? Put him down?

“Okay, kids, simmer down.” My dad wraps an arm around both of us, smiling pleasantly. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

“Excitement?” I repeat incredulously.

Yugyeom looks away, exasperated. “It’s just a project, you’re not getting married.”

“I don’t understand why the two of you seem to think that I don’t want to be stuck with Mark— “

“So you don’t mind being stuck with him?” he asks like he’s unearthed some kind of dark secret, withering when I shoot him a seething glare.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise my chin defiantly. “That’s not why I’m mad, I’m mad because my grade is going to depend on how much effort he puts in. I don’t know if you know this— “

“We know,” they interrupt simultaneously.

“—but he’s not exactly the most— “

“Hardworking?” Dad raises an eyebrow.

“Serious?” Yugyeom chimes in.

“Tolerable. He always comes in late, he doesn’t seem to care,” I lick the roof of my mouth with a look of irritation. “He doesn’t seem to think class starts until he shows up. I’m supposed to depend on this guy? That’s not fair.”

“Huh.” My dad removes his arms from around us to lean against the sink.

I can tell he’s thinking about how I can get out of this, or if I can’t, how I’m going to deal with it. Even Yugyeom knew I had a good point, it was one of the few times he had nothing to say.

I’m not going to pretend I won’t suck it up and deal with Mark for a grade, that’s life and sometimes it just doesn’t go my way. I’m not going to spend time worrying about how I’m going to tolerate him when our project relies entirely on his decision to come to class and how much effort he’s willing to put in.

This is the guy who has no problem sicking my own best friend on me any opportune moment he gets. The same person who doesn’t seem to get the idea that I’m just not that into him. And if it hasn’t gotten further than that, I’d say Mark Tuan is not only unreliable but dangerously unpredictable.

So this four-week group study can go one of two ways.

He actually listens to what I say, respects my boundaries, and I don’t have to be at his throat. Which is reaching, hard. Far. Like, my body is made of rubber and I’m stretching across the ocean.

Or he lets me down. Why would I write off the possibility of that impending disappointment?

After a moment of tense silence, dad finally snaps his fingers and points at me, a determined smile on his face.

I have no expectations. Yugyeom, on the other hand, stands up straight and listens close.

“Let’s talk more about this over dinner. What are we having tonight? Pizza? Chinese? Sushi?”

🌙

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved about not having Gender Psych. Yes, because of Mark, but over the weekend, our professor had approved our proposal and I’d forwarded it to him.

Naturally, I got no answer, most likely because it was his school email. Was I annoyed?

Incredibly.

But was it worth going around looking for him before I made the trip home?

Hell no.

Mondays were my latest days despite only having two classes, but they had a huge gap between them and after each lecture, I had an hour and a half long lab session.

Not that I’m complaining, I got into this place on a scholarship. They just don’t make it easy on us between having to go to unnecessary events and having to schedule my own classes around the ones they required.

Patience is truly a virtue. I've come to find that my class schedule is the least of my school-related issues. But with my pension for dramatics and complaining my father and best friend’s ears off, I try not to weep over that.

I look up from my textbook to see if the bus was close, then checked my phone. 6:26. It wasn’t the latest I’ve had to wait, but it wasn’t too dark outside yet. I can wait.

“ _Still waiting, eat without me._ ” I sent my dad a quick text and went back to studying. Why did I get the feeling that it was going to be a long night?

As I take a sip of my coffee, a shiny black car pulls up in front of the stop. I don’t dare look up from my studying. I refuse. I don’t need to look up to know exactly who it is.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” Mark tilts his head out the window as the windows roll down. “Don’t tell me you wait outside all night until campus gates open.”

_Jerk._

“I’m waiting for the bus,” I say as neutrally as possible.

You can’t provoke him, it only excites him more. Like a velociraptor.

He frowns. “Bus?”

“To get home?”

“Then why not take the school shuttle?”

I close my textbook and put it in my other bag. Study session over because Mark Tuan has all the time in the world to pull up at a bus stop to talk to me and I’m better off reading on the train. Where I’m safe from him.

“I live in the east district, so I have to take the bus to the train station to get home.”

“You don’t live in the city either?” he asks curiously.

“Yes,” I answer him bluntly. “Why? Are you going to follow me home?”

His smile falls, eyes lowering with what I can only assume is contempt. I’m sorry, _he_ has contempt for _me_? I can only hope.

“Yeah,” he says dryly and nods, “That’s exactly what I’m planning to do.”

I settle for giving him the last word, only because there was no use in keeping conversation. Like I said, velociraptor.

I didn’t question his sarcasm or how unlike him to not turn on that “boyish cute charm” that got him everything he wanted. Don’t want to jinx myself.

“So do you want a ride there?”

I frown. “What?”

Mark looks around, pursing his lips. “Do you. Want. A ride.”

“To where?” Why would he want to do anything for me that doesn’t directly benefit him?

“The train station,” he shrugs. “So you don’t have to wait all night. The local buses aren’t exactly on time at night.”

“Me ride in a car with you?” I think my face went three shades paler. “No thanks, I enjoy being alive.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I’m a safe driver!”

I laugh at his offended tone and shake my head. “Yeah, because the donuts you do all over the faculty parking lot is any indication. Very safe, driver Tuan.”

His lips twitch, a guilty smile forming and he purses his lips to try to hide it. “So I’ll take that as a no?”

“Yes.”

“So you do want a ride?”

“No.”

“But you just said yes,” he grins.

Oh my god, I’ve provoked him.

“No, I don’t want a ride,” I say with poorly concealed annoyance. “Thanks, but I’d rather wait.”

“You’re saying you’d rather wait all night by yourself for a bus to the train than get in a car with me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“So I guess this wouldn’t be a great time to ask you out?”

So this is what it feels like when your soul leaves your body. I’ve run out of patience.

I open my mouth to tell him how I really feel, but Mark holds up his hands in surrender.

“Sorry, bad timing, sorry,” he breathes hastily, “It was just a joke, okay? But are you sure you don’t— “

“I’m sure.”

His mouth scrunches up slightly in disappointment and I silently challenge him to ask again or say something funny to me. But he shrugs and sets his hand on the gear.

“Hey, your loss. Just be careful, it gets cold later on.”

I give him a two-finger girl scout salute and pull out my book as he drives away. I only let out the breath I’d been holding when his car disappears behind the gates of the other campus across the street.

He was almost bearable, for all of two minutes.

Sadly, almost is never enough.

Since Mark had zipped into the opposite campus, almost forty minutes have passed. It still wasn’t dark yet, but by the time the bus came – where the hell is this stupid bus? – it’ll still be a twenty-minute ride and another hour or so on the train. I could always call my dad to pick me up from the station, but I’d have to wait for the train too.

Normally, I’d text Yugyeom to see if he wouldn’t mind waiting outside with me, but he had stayed home with his parents an extra day. Unlike me, he only had class two days a week to make time for baseball practice.

By now, I’ve been counting so much and thinking about the fastest and smoothest way home, I’m pacing along the street. I hate to admit when I’m wrong, but more than that, I hate to admit when Mark is right. It has gotten colder.

Thankfully, the former is a rare occurrence. But the latter is happening now.

From across the street, I recognize Mark’s black car pulling up to the curb again.

No. I don’t allow even the possibility of the thought to cross my mind. I don’t need his help, I don’t need his car, and I certainly don’t need his shit-eating smile.

But of course, he pulls up with his windows down and music blaring.

“You’re still here?” Mark asks, then smirks. “Didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye, huh?”

I jab my thumb up to the stop signal, resisting the urge to jab a different finger in his direction. “I’m waiting for the bus.”

He nods, and I take it in a patronizing way because if it was anyone else, I’d have no problem sucking up my pride and asking them for a favor.

With Mark? I don’t want to owe him a damn thing, whether he takes his offer as debt or not. Giving him the satisfaction is a shot to my dignity as it is.

“So I bet my offer’s looking pretty good right now.” See how he doesn’t even ask? 

_Jerk._

“Hardly,” I bite out with my own contempt and ignore him to check my phone.

 _‘Got you takeout, bud. Pick you up from the station in an hour?’_ Damn it, where the hell is this bus?!

“Alright.” I look up as Mark sighs dejectedly, “See you in class then.”

“Wait.”

He pokes his head out the window, eyes wide trying to look nonchalant and chin downcast so innocently. I know that puppy dog look. I now know where my best friend learned it from.

I manage a perfectly calm, neutral, but not unfriendly face as I swallow down my pride. It tastes bitter going down my throat.

I stop in front of the window, leaning down just slightly and try not to look like I’ve been punched in the gut.

“I’ll take that ride.” My voice comes out soft enough, but not compliant and I’m proud at myself for managing not to come off… well, mean.

His smile widens until he’s grinning from ear to ear. Mark turns to lean over and open the car door as I reluctantly make my way around to get in.

🌙

The ride is surprisingly silent as I keep to looking out the window and Mark doesn’t have much to say, which is also a surprise, but not enough for me to comment on it. Besides, it was a ten-minute trip to the station by car. If I give him an inch, he comes back with a foot.

But I can tell he wants to talk to me and he’s trying to think of what to say because every time he takes a breath to talk, I can hear it and brace myself only for it to come out an empty exhale.

Internally, I hear my dad laugh, “ _Because you’re absolutely terrifying._ ”

As Mark pulls into the parking lot, I tear my eyes from the window and unbuckle my seat belt.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” his voice proudly cuts through the silence. He turns to smile at me, “Right?”

I nod, “Uh, no. I guess not.”

The silence returns once I look away to check the time since the train ran in half-hour intervals. I’d have to take the one coming at 8pm.

“Why don’t you wait in here until it comes?” I don’t miss the hopeful chirp in his tone. “It’s cold outside.”

I nod tensely. Mark being accommodating was new to me. Correction, Mark being _nice_ is completely new to me.

Mark being unbearably annoying and forthcoming? That, I know how to handle. But I have no biting remarks for polite Mark.

Maybe he was finally taking the hint. Or it finally reached close enough to smack him in the face.

I just didn’t think it’d ever happen. But like the decent, upstanding person my father raised me to be, I manage a polite smile.

“Thanks for the ride, Mark.”

He blinks, surprised. I’d be offended, but this is probably the first time I’ve thanked him and meant it. First time I’ve thanked him, ever.

But then a troubling thought enters my mind.

“What were you doing?” I ask, not too harshly because he hasn’t done anything wrong. Yet.

“Uh, what do you mean?”

“I mean, pulling up at the bus stop?”

“Oh.” His fingers tap around the wheel as he shrugs. “I got your email, but I couldn’t open it since I haven’t touched my school email in like, years. So I went to the admin building across the main campus to get it fixed.”

I try not to look like a gaping fish, biting down on my lip as I processed this. “And you just happened to decide to go get it done while I’m waiting for the bus?”

His mouth opens as his head snaps in my direction and I regret making it sound harsher than I needed it to be.

“What, did you think I was stalking you?” Mark asks. The pain in his voice is barely there. If he wasn’t so soft-spoken, he probably would have sounded actually angry.

“No. No, I mean – I don’t know, okay,” I manage hastily. “I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just—“

He lets out a frustrated sigh before shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m annoying.”

I don’t say anything and purse my lips, looking up only to check the time on the dashboard.

“But I’m not a bad guy.” My eyes raise only to meet his. I can admit when I’ve done something wrong, especially with the way Mark stares back at me. Like he’s trying to get me to understand, asking me to believe him.

“I don’t think you are either.” I shrug. “Actually, no one seems to think you are.”

“But I really like you.”

He bites his lip, looking out in front of him and I do the same, not knowing what to say to that.

I’m not even sure I believe it. From what I gather, he’s really liked a lot of other girls. The only thing that separates me from being just like the rest of them is that I know the repercussions of giving him a chance.

And if I’m being honest, I know how this ends. Real or not, I will not be another one of his broken-hearted girls.

Yeah, Mark isn’t such a bad guy. But so what?

As he turns to me, I do the same. I am prepared for anything he has to throw at me.

“You should go.” He nods out to the station entrance. “It’s almost 8.”

Nodding wordlessly, I gather my backpack and textbooks from the floor.

“Thanks again for the ride,” I say just to end this awkward exchange on a somewhat positive note. I can’t help but feel guilty. Not because I want to return his sentiment, but more so for practically accusing him of stalking me.

He reaches his arm over to get the door once I’ve got all my stuff, his face nearing mine. I turn my head as the door clicks open, keenly aware of his hand brushing past my arm.

I only turn back to smile politely once he’s settled back in the driver’s seat.

“Good night,” he says softly. The corner of his lip turns up. “Get home safe.”

I get out and close the door, nodding back, “Good night, Mark,” before he turns the car back on and drives out of the lot.

I know Mark isn’t a bad guy, really, I do. But one car ride doesn’t change the fact that he hasn’t done anything to merit or justify that in the two years we’ve known each other, this may be the first time he’s been genuinely nice to me.

Still, somehow I don’t feel so heavy now as I did waiting alone under the bus stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/wangdeux) if you want, it's free!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t even know me.”
> 
> “You don’t know me either.”
> 
> “No, but I want to.”

“You’re awfully quiet for someone who was confessed to last night.”

“And you’re still as talkative as ever, what’s your point?”

He’s looking at me with his big, wide little Bambi eyes that betray the devious little monster grin tugging at his mouth, waiting for me to look up from my notes so we can launch into the age-old discussion about why I should date Mark.

There is not enough coffee in this world to deal with Kim Yugyeom.

He lays down on his stomach and cradles his face in his hands, swinging his feet back and forth up in the air.

“I told you he really likes you.”

“So did he,” I scoff. “You know my life isn’t one of your dramas.”

“But captain confessed!” he pointed out cheerfully.

I wrinkle my nose. “Yeah, after he did me a favor. I don’t know what you’re thinking, we’re not even friends.”

“But he could be your friend!”

“No thanks.”

“Wow, Y/N, you’re a stone-cold fox. So heartless.”

“That’s me,” I sing with sarcastic glee before cupping his chin fondly and finishing the last of my coffee.

Call me a pessimist, call me realistic. Either way, I don’t think Mark’s first, and possibly only, kindness to me should be awarded if it means erasing his past actions. That’s not friendship, anyway. It’s not real.

That’s why I always hold Yugyeom accountable when he does something for Mark.

“Did you tell your dad?”

I scowl and he laughs, knowing I tell my dad everything. As soon as I got off the train, he’d been waiting in the parking lot and after a whole lot of complaining about how unreliable the buses were with spring break coming up, I told him Mark had given me a ride.

“He laughed about it in the car,” I mumble in response. “You guys are actually the same person.”

Naturally, when he was done laughing at my expense, we both agreed that it was unexpected, but thoughtful of Mark to go out of his way. Still, it doesn’t mean I should feel like I owe him. Or that his single good deed changed the fact that he spent the past two years trying to get me to go out with him, but this was the first time he was actually nice.

“Doesn’t that say a lot?” Yugyeom asks innocently. “We both want what’s best for you!”

“And that’s supposed to be Mark?” I swallow my look of disgust. “No offense, but if you let his personality brainwash you, I’m not sure I can let you into my house.”

“What, why?”

“Because if you infect my dad, I won’t have any place safe from him.”

He sucks his teeth and rolls onto his back, looking up at me with an exasperated sigh. “Such a drama queen.”

I think about bringing a spray bottle to school whenever I have these conversations with my best friend. Like the ones used to housetrain cats or puppies.

I am more and more tempted every week.

“Hey,” he reaches over to pat my knee. “You’re still helping me study for bio later, right?”

🌙

Waiting for Mark to come to class was not only typical but today, actually stressful. It was a week before spring break and I’d already drawn up a schedule for how our study should follow. I had it all figured out so that we get the most done in the least amount of time. We’d only meet during the last week to gather data and put it all together, then go back to having nothing to do with each other.

Now if he’d just showed up on time, I could give him the schedule, explain it, and then leave early to help Yugyeom study.

I kept looking up from the sheets of paper on my desk to see everyone in their groups talking among themselves, brainstorming ideas or working out a schedule.

It wouldn’t have been so unnerving if the professor didn’t occasionally throw me a sympathetic smile, to which I meekly returned because I didn’t want to blame her for pairing me up with the one person everyone knew was always late.

I mean, I did blame her. But sulking wouldn’t get me anywhere. Or get Mark here faster.

From across the room, Amber walks up to the desk to hand our professor her proposal and plan for her study with Jackson and another boy I knew was on the baseball team. As they all get up to leave together, Amber waves to me and I smile back.

“Good luck!” Jackson says brightly as he and the other boy follow after her. 

I manage a soft “thank you”.

His friend ignores me, snickering as he puts his arm around Jackson and they leave the deafening noise of the room with a soft click of the door.

I slump back in my seat and check my phone for the time. Twenty minutes into class and Amber’s group had gotten done what I’d started last weekend on.

See, the frustrating thing about this situation isn’t that I want to get work done – I mean, I do – early, it’s having to rely on someone who hasn’t earned my trust. Or respect. Neither of which seem to matter very much to him, yet I’m the one who has to wait for him to actually show up.

As another group hands in their study plan, the door opens loudly and Mark rushes in. He’s at the professor’s desk in a few strides of his long legs, whispering rushed apologies as she takes his late pass.

He looks disheveled, he usually does, but this time it just seems like it’s because he rushed over. His long hair sticks up in different directions, pieces stuck to his face from sweat.

At least this time, wherever he was, he had the decency to button up his jersey right and loop his belt fully around his waist.

I purse my lips together and try to smooth the unsavory lines in my face so as not to seem upset. Granted, I’d been sighing and sucking the inside of my mouth for the last fifteen minutes, but I didn’t want to provoke him or give him a reason to try win me over.

So I make sure my face is as neutral and calm as possible when Mark pushes a chair next to me and sits down with one of those dazzling smiles that got him anything he wanted.

“Sorry I was late,” he said looking at me. “I was meeting with my coach.”

“That’s alright,” I answer, relieved that he didn’t bring up last night’s conversation in the car. It was tense, to say the least, and stressful, to say the most.

I hand him a copy of the plan I made, explaining as he looks along. At least, I hope he’s looking along.

“So I figure interviewing ten people a day would be productive. That’s five girls, five boys for each of us, so twenty interviewees per day. The goal is to start sometime this week, so we have at least ten for the first week and start creating like, maybe a graph for the data—“

“Y/N?”

I hold my breath. “Yes?”

“This is a lot to do in two weeks.” He pauses and glances at me, a slow, small smile forming on his face. “We have four weeks.”

I clear my throat. “Well, spring break is coming up.”

“Next week. And I have to be honest, I probably won’t be able to do more than fifteen, twenty people for spring break. I have practice.”

“Right,” I say, hearing the nerves in my voice raises a few octaves. “But I figure that can be overlooked. You can interview your teammates, right?”

“Not all of them. Some of the guys show a certain bias around me, I’m captain. If anything,” Mark sucks in a careful breath, “I really shouldn’t ask any of them. It’s not a fair case.”

I have said this before, maybe once every year because it’s so rare, but I hate when Mark is right. Wait, no. I said it yesterday too.

_Damn it._

He plucks the pencil from my desk and starts crossing out the times I wrote on the days of the calendar. I watch, debating on whether or not to apologize for not taking into account that he had baseball practice. I should have asked Yugyeom for the practice schedule.

“I think we should aim for starting this Friday,” Mark mumbles as he continues writing. “Since Professor S is going to be away that day, that’s an hour or so to go around interviewing. If you want, I’ll just keep going around until my practice.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind staying. I can’t make you do extra work—“

He shakes his head, “It won’t be. It’d be bad if you missed your bus home. And I’ll just have less to worry about when spring break starts. Look, it works,” he hands the revised plan to me.

For spring break, baseball practice was going to start in the mornings and end at noon, so his days were more flexible. The rest of this week, he was booked nights. He had a few classes scattered around throughout the day with long breaks, a few of them even coincided with mine.

I chewed the inside of my mouth. “You don’t have time Friday until this class?”

“I have time before my practice, but we don’t have class.”

“What are you doing in the afternoon?”

Mark’s face scrunches up with a mixture of skepticism and amusement. “You’re not coming to the kickoff?”

“Ah.”

_Shit._

The kickoff was an event not unlike a pep rally, but for the baseball team. Our school’s pride rested in the KU Tigers and as a private university, it could afford to show a little favoritism towards the sports teams. I mean, it helped to have a few of the players came from well-off families whose parents donated sizable amounts of money to fund their children’s teams.

I have only gone twice since knowing Yugyeom and I honestly wouldn’t go if he didn’t ask, but I lacked school spirit and sports were really not my cup of tea.

“Thought Gyeom would have invited you.”

“He did,” I snap, ready to defend my best friend. “And I told him I’d go, I just forgot.”

“You’ll come out to see me?” Mark asks, his eyes bright and his voice a little too husky for my taste.

“To see _Gyeom_. Not everything is about you, Mark.”

“Well if you say it that way, it makes me look like a bad guy.”

I look up at him briefly before reviewing this week again. “Kickoff isn’t until 1, you don’t have time in the morning?”

“I have a 10am class,” he taps on the Friday slot where 9-11am was crossed off. “Besides, how can you get up so early just to do work? We’re college students.”

“I’m here earliest on Tuesdays and Fridays.”

His mouth falls open. “You commute from the east district to school and still pick 9am classes?”

“Yes,” I say as evenly as possible. “Why? You going to make fun of me for sleeping outside the school until it opens again?”

“Took that pretty personally, it was just a joke. Sorry,” he said quietly. “I was gonna say, I think it’s admirable. I know I’m not that dedicated. I can’t even wake up for an 11am class.”

What do I even say to that? Why was Mark being nice to me? Why did he have to be nice to me when I’m used to him being a jerk so that I look like a jerk?

“Well, thank you.”

He nods, a weird tension falling between us. “You’re welcome.”

I start fixing the schedule, making sure to divide the workload evenly based on what our days were looking like.

If we made the most of the break, we could still each interview ten people a day, which shouldn’t take more than an hour. I can easily do a little more, and since I’ll be on campus anyway, I’d be able to see Yugyeom or Amber instead of waiting around for him.

“Mark, I really don’t mind interviewing more if you don’t have the time,” I said warily. “I’m hoping to have time during the last week to write up the report on the study so we don’t rush.”

“We’ll have time,” he insisted. He leans closer to me and looks over at the sheet. Surprisingly, he doesn’t smell like a wet, used sock. In fact, he smells like clean laundry. Warm linens.

I shudder and chase the thought out of my mind. He might smell good, but he’s still garbage.

“Look, let’s narrow it down to fifty students instead of a hundred. No matter how you shoot it, fifty is an easier number.” He takes the proposal sheets and starts writing some changes. “That way, we both have time and it’s fair. No one does more or less work. Let’s aim for five students each, we’ll take turns who asks five males and five females. That way, we can see how the results differ depending on who asks them the questions too. We can even start Thursday afternoon.”

I open my mouth to disagree because that’s my default reaction whenever Mark says anything, but I stop myself. It’s not a bad idea. In fact, they were good ideas. We both had breaks on Thursday before he has practice and I have to leave.

“I don’t think that many students who dorm would want to stop and help us when they’re on break anyway. Unless you actually want to do a ton of work,” he murmurs sheepishly.

Why does he always have to ruin his good ideas by opening his mouth?

“You do know that I care about more than just school, right?”

“Yeah, I know that,” Mark says quickly, “It’s just that you don’t seem to care much about anything else.”

“Well, you never asked.”

“You’re kinda scary sometimes.”

I can’t help laughing a little as I nod. “My dad would agree with you.”

“But I like that about you.”

Without thinking, I look up and he’s looking at me. He lets out a breath of laughter, shrugging one shoulder as his eyes hold mine. And I can see that he doesn’t care if I believe him or not, so it’s why I do.

“You say what you mean,” he continues thoughtfully. “And you’re smart and cool to talk to. And I would really like to take you out, honestly. I mean that.”

“I believe you.” His mouth opens, but I shake my head. “But I don’t want to go out with you.”

“I’m not a bad guy. If you’d just let me show you that I’m not—“

“I know you’re not, Mark,” I cut him off, trying to be patient, to be civil. “But I just—“

“You don’t even know me.”

I stop myself now, hearing the disappointment in his voice. That ever-confident tone is gone, something that left me feeling sorry for him replaced it. But I can’t bring myself to feel guilty. I don’t feel guilty. I don’t deserve that.

“You don’t know me either,” I say with finality. But I say it so softly, I don’t know if that’s for my sake or his.

“No, but I want to.” He stands up and grabs his bag from behind the chair, looking from me to the papers in my hands before gathering them up neatly. “I’ll rewrite the proposal and plan so we can leave early. I’ll email you what I have tonight before I send it.”

“Okay, I’ll let her know. Just email me your number too.” I hesitate when he raises an eyebrow. “We’re going to have to keep in touch for this. Email isn’t always reliable and if one of us forgets, then, you know.”

He licks the roof of his mouth, glancing away and this time, I do feel guilty. I didn’t want to make it seem obvious that I didn’t feel comfortable relying on him yet, but this isn’t just about whatever is – and shouldn’t be – happening between us.

“Got it. Are we done?”

I don’t comment on his tone because this is the way it should be. A little colder than I would like, but it’s for the best. So I get up and nod for him to move his chair from next to my desk so I can get out.

He does, then turns on his heel to go. Without even looking back, I see him approach a different group consisting of Eric Nam, and Kunpimook, who was an international student like Jackson. They were actually good friends, from what I know.

And Holly Vuong.

She notices Mark approaching and looks him up and down, sneering once he’s in front of her.

If there was any girl who had had remotely any hold on Mark, it was her. They were so on and off, no one knew where their bullshit ended and began, but the only consistent story was that they went to school together their whole lives and their families were close.

Holly’s parents were very wealthy, enough for a small donation on their part to excuse their daughter’s absence from classes for weeks at a time. She would always come back nicely tanned or humbly bragging about taking a little “me time” shopping in Macau or skiing in the French Alps.

And while Mark had a line of girls waiting in a pool of their own tears for him, he always somehow went back to Holly.

Yugyeom liked to call her my rival. I liked to call her a pain in my ass.

Around my second year, it was no longer a secret that Mark would incessantly badger me into going out with him and once she caught word of it, Holly made an effort to ignore me.

And though the feeling was mutual, you’d think ignoring someone wouldn’t require any effort. But with that girl, she worked.

“He’ll get tired of being turned down by _her_ ,” she once said to her friends after I walked into the same bathroom. “He’s just bored because I give him everything.”

I’m glad I never have to work that hard to not care.

As I tell the professor about mine and Mark’s circumstances, I see him lean down to whisper in Holly’s ear. His back is to me, but I can see the smile slowly forming on her face. She turns to him once he stands up before taking her bag in one arm and his hand in hers. Without a word to either of her group members, she follows him out.

 _Good_ , I think as I say goodbye to the professor and go to get my own things, _They deserve each other._

🌙

When I met Yugyeom in front of his dorm building, I shot him down before he could even ask about how class went. Knowing his roommates, he’d hear it from Mark himself about how it went.

But he knows me, greeted me with a cup of coffee in hand and a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll still come to the kickoff, right?” he asks as we make our way through the building. It’s a newly furnished one for students who can afford it, or in Yugyeom’s case, a sports scholarship that was more than willing to cover his room and board.

Usually, we studied in one of the lounges when the library was closed or it got too hot to travel all over campus. But it was getting busier, with students making most of their time together before leaving for spring break or trying to study, finish assignments before they left.

Mark was rarely in the building unless it was to sleep, but Yugyeom reassured me that he wouldn’t be here anyway. He promised he wouldn’t pull another stunt like last week that had me trying to maul down their door and maul down Mark.

Plus, Mark had gone to help prepare for the kickoff or meet with the coach since the mid-season playoffs were finally resuming. The first game would come after the break ended and go on just until it was time to prepare for finals.

I try not to resent Mark for prioritizing baseball over school because he was captain of the team and it was more than just a game for them. Especially for Yugyeom, whose time here was riding on his sports scholarship.

“Yeah,” I can’t help sighing and take a sip of my coffee. “I’ll come, but just – you know, just don’t put any ideas in his head. Like I want to be there for him or otherwise. I’m going because you’re my friend and I can’t seem to hate you.”

He grins, nudging me with his elbow. “You can just say you like hanging out with me, you know? It won’t kill you.”

“Shut up, I’m your mom.”

“Guess that makes captain my dad.”

“Do you want my help with bio or not?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs childishly and throws his arm around my shoulder. “Hey, you want to get some food before you – what the hell?”

We barely make it into the hall of his suite before stopping dead in our tracks. At one of the doors, two people are on top of each other, hands in hair, breathy, feminine sighs echoing through the corridor.

My best friend groans, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jeez, other people live here too. Let’s just go to the lounge.”

“Wait, aren’t those two…”

He looks down at me, then back to the couple – unfortunately – not too far from us and squints his eyes.

Not two people. Two garbage dumps.

Yugyeom’s jaw drops. “Hold on. Are you kidding me?” He breathes out through his nose and if it weren’t for other students in the building, I know he’d start pitching a whining fit.

He takes my hand suddenly and before I can stop him, he drags me with him to the door of his suite where Holly had pinned Mark against. And was currently trying to eat his face. Or he was trying to eat hers.

It wasn’t that PDA bothered me, not at all. But I think it’s a cardinal rule for PDA not to be so explicitly intimate, even if two people couldn’t wait and absolutely had to have each other. That’s when it becomes about self-control, about character.

I don’t even know why I’m surprised.

“Captain!” Yugyeom called loudly once we were mere steps in front of them.

The two of them separated, by mouth only, and it was all I could do not to look either of them in the eye. I didn’t want to start any problems by looking uncomfortable. God knows Holly loved attention, regardless of what kind it was.

At first, it was quiet, but from the corner of my eye, I see Mark look between Holly and me before giving Yugyeom, his roommate and friend, his full attention. She was draped over him like a blanket, her body pressed into every crook of his and her arms wrapped possessively around his neck.

“What?” The irritation in his voice makes me want to punch him.

“We’re studying in my room today,” Yugyeom starts indignantly. “Can you let us through? Y’know, take this elsewhere?”

Holly lets her head fall on Mark’s chest before letting out an annoyed sigh and unlatching herself from him.

“Whatever, virgin.” I’m not sure if she’s directing that at me or Yugyeom, but it doesn’t stop me from raising my chin and glaring at the both of them.

She takes Mark’s hand in hers and starts walking off in the opposite direction. “Let’s go, Mark.”

I resort to glaring at the door, feeling slightly sick, but I’ll live. The door would need to be disinfected and I might not visit the dorms for a while. Mark, I could handle just fine. Even if we may have to spend more time together than I’d like.

But Holly, I would rather brave one hundred Mark’s than deal with her. I’d rather have to fend off an annoying person than live with someone who was just plain awful. That’s where I had to feel sorry for him.

I only had to deal with Holly once every few months. At least I don’t have to wake up every day and be Mark.

“If that’s his way of trying to make you jealous,” Yugyeom mumbles as he rummages through his pockets for his key, “He should’ve thought it through a little more.”

A shiver runs down my neck. “Why would you even think that’s what he was trying to do?”

“What do you mean?” He turns around, frowning down at me. “Didn’t you see how he kept looking back for you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/wangdeux) if you want, it's free!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was doing you a favor.”
> 
> “You ruined everything.”

I hate men.

Wow, that’s harsh. Let me rephrase that.

I hate the majority of guys I go to school with. Especially some athletes. And most fraternity members. Actually, all fraternity members, the recruits, and their RAs. So yeah, almost every guy I go to school with.

“What do you think about girls who are sexually promiscuous?”

“Well, they shouldn’t be. Obviously.” Football team, 21 years old.

“I mean, it’s fine. But I wouldn’t date a girl who is – not that I date, I’m trying to have fun.” Frat: kappa delta nu, 19 years old.

“Girls who’re like, my friends or girls here? Because this is college, man.” Cross-country track, 21 years old.

I think I’ve developed a twitch in my left eye from going around letting Mark ask the questions while I just stand next to him, like some kind of sidekick. Or a personal assistant. Hell, I expected a few of the interviewees to at least lie in my presence, but I should have known better.

It’s like they all have some kind of understanding, assuming that I have no role in this. Or that it’s one big joke and Mark gets to walk around rallying the grossest guys for their opinions. They’ll spot him asking the question, then look at me, and something clicks in their brain that it’s okay. They’re safe to just be themselves around another guy because I’m silent.

After those three, Mark suggested we stop to review a little and relax, probably sensing my growing frustration. So we stopped at the Starbucks on campus. It wasn’t real and a lot of the wealthier and hipster-y students have remarked on it enough times to start a Dead Horse Fight Club.

It’s a coffee shop, not a Michelin star café.

I take a long sip of coffee and settle for glaring at the table between us. Maybe it’s an addiction, but caffeine helps me deal with things. My dad is just thankful I’ve never turned to drugs.

I didn’t want to complain, but I also knew that I couldn’t show Mark that I was agitated. Plus, I got the feeling that if he knew I was upset, he’d probably try to make it about himself.

This is the guy who seems to have no remorse using his on and off girlfriend to make me jealous. _If_ he was trying to make me jealous. I’d dismissed the idea only partially because Yugyeom has said and will say anything to make the idea of dating Mark appealing. But I also wouldn’t put it past him to stoop that low.

“We’ve only asked three people,” Mark mutters across from me. He taps his pen against the notes I took, his head hung in embarrassment for himself or for his species. I can’t tell. But this is some personal growth if he’s embarrassed about both.

“I’m asking three more,” I declare indifferently, but not before quickly adding, “Male students. You can record the responses this time.”

He winces down at the paper, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Was he nervous about their reactions or mine to theirs? Either way, a quarter of our grade was riding on this project and I don’t have it in me to feel sympathy for Mark given his track record.

“Well, we’ve got time, so.” He gives a tight-lipped smile and slides the sheet back to me before he stands. “You want another coffee? My treat?”

I shake my head, holding up my cup. “Treat yourself. You actually came on time today,” I say with the smallest bit of sarcasm I allow myself.

But he lets out a sheepish breath of laughter and turns around without more to say.

Sometimes I can’t tell if Mark understands sarcasm. But clearly, if our recent increased amount of interaction proved anything, it was that he was starting to get offended by my rejection.

_Maybe because I blatantly insult his work ethic and character._

Because he _is_ usually late. We’ve been going to the same school for years and he only recently fixed his student email. Because he “hasn’t used it in a while”?

I breathe in deeply through my nose to stop myself from these negative thoughts. Not for his sake, but for my well-being. It didn’t do either of us favors and like I told Mark in our emails yesterday, we were both in this together. We’d be civil and maintain a professional partnership. That’s all this was.

So far, so – good? I don’t want to jinx myself. So far, decent enough.

He did send in the revised proposal after I emailed him back the okay and getting his number was relatively painless. When I texted him first, though, he sent me a selfie with Yugyeom during practice. My dad got a kick out of that.

_“Let’s put it on our Christmas card to your mother. My two sons.”_

I look up to see if he was still in line when the bell at the door chimes open and a few guys from the baseball team come strutting in. Jackson, Randy Wong, Minhyuk, and Bobby Kim. I looked the other way. Nothing against Jackson, he was alright. But I’d be okay if I never spoke to anyone on the team, considering they all know about Mark and me.

I try not to bristle at the thought of “Mark and me”. Sounds like a bad romantic comedy with a puppy in it.

They don’t see me as they pass, but notice Mark at the cashier and go to greet him with loud and excited, “Hey man’s” and “Captain, what’s up!”, putting their arms around him and clapping their hands on his back.

What is it about sports that made boys so much more obnoxious?

 _“Probably the testosterone increase. It spreads through the air,”_ my dad had joked once.

I sneak a glance in their direction. Jackson and Randy are laughing at something Minhyuk is saying to Mark, with Bobby seemingly trying to reenact it? Idiots.

I wrinkle my nose just as Randy stops to meet my eyes. I don’t doubt that he doesn’t know me, just because he’s as much Mark’s friend as he is Yugyeom’s. And Yugyeom likes Randy enough, but I didn’t know anything about him. Don’t really care to either.

For the sake of appearances, I manage a small and brief smile. To which he turns away from, his expression going from blank to one of boredom until Mark taps a hand against his chest and he’s laughing and joking around again.

Prick.

I want to say that I don’t know what it is about people like Randy that get to me, but I do. It’s the way they look at me as if I’m not good enough for them. But they have the nerve to think that someone like me would be so honored if they even gave me the time of day.

And it’s not just me. I notice how some students treat others, especially if their parents are a little more well-off.

I see the way Randy and some of the other teammates treat Yugyeom on the rare occasions I stayed for his practices. They smiled at him as they gave him their chores to pick up after because he was happy to do it and they were just lazy.

But when he wasn’t looking, they’d forget about him or talk about him like _they_ were doing _him_ a favor.

“So what?” I just barely hear Minhyuk ask once the barista called for Mark’s order. “You on a date, Cap?”

Randy snorted. “Mark doesn’t date.”

“Mark _wants_ to date,” Jackson retorts defensively. “Don’t discourage him, man.”

Bobby sucked at his teeth, wincing – or grinning – as he puts his arms behind his head. “Dude, Holly’s gonna bust your balls for this.”

I close my eyes and try not to roll them as I hope, I _pray_ Mark doesn’t say anything.

“Actually, I’m doing my psych study today.”

My shoulders instinctively scrunch into my neck, like some protective turtle shell to hide in.

“By yourself?” Bobby gasps. “Cap, you said it wasn’t due until May.”

My eyes flit towards them again, this time anticipating Mark’s answer. I watch as he shrugs, a cup holder with two drinks in his hand and the other rubbing his neck.

“Start early, have more time for practice.”

My brows raise at the earnest answer. This was different.

But all too soon, his mouth splits into a wide grin. “And to party when we win!”

The other four erupt in cheers of drawn out, “Whoo’s” and “Hell yeah!” I shrink back in my turtle shell as other patrons in the café either shot them exasperated looks or smiled at seeing their school team in such high spirits.

As the others started heading out, I looked to see if Mark was going with them, but he just waved and called out practice times for today. He looked somehow tired. Happy, but tired. And when his teammates turned their backs, his toothy grin falls to a resolute smile.

I settle back to looking out the window, telling myself that it was none of my business. Besides, Yugyeom would try to make it my business somehow anyway.

“Bored?”

I look up just as Mark settles back in the seat across from me, my eyes following his face as he takes out a cup and slides the holder to me.

“Sorry about that,” he murmurs quickly and takes the lid off, blowing at the steam.

I eye the cup in front of me carefully.

“It’s just coffee.”

“It’s never just anything with you, Mark.”

He leans back in his seat, holding the cup to his lips with an unreadable expression. His eyes are trained on the space between us before he looks up and shrugs one shoulder.

“You know I like you. And I’ve tried asking you out, but that’s obviously not working for me. I don’t know why you hate me—“

“I don’t hate you,” I cut him off none too firmly. “But you haven’t exactly been nice to me. Or done anything to merit that you like me.”

He nods. “That’s fair.”

“It’s true, it’s a fact. It has nothing to do with being fair.”

“Which is why I’m trying to be nice now.” His voice is low, soft. Like when he first told me he liked me in his car. I remember because we looked out the window, not knowing what to say to each other. And he sounded like he had nothing to lose.

I put down my empty cup and stuffed the dirty napkins into it before reaching for the one in the cup holder. Glancing from him to the cup, I couldn’t tell if I should be insulted or not at how shocked he seemed. But it’s better than how satisfied he looks whenever I point out that he’s right about something.

I hold up it to my mouth, pausing only to give him a warning look. “I appreciate it.”

And take a sip. Just coffee.

“You know how I like my coffee.” More a questionable observation than a question, but given the only mutual friend we have—

“Gyeom told me,” he said quickly, looking down at his own cup when I meet his eyes. He smiles down at it like he’s accomplished something or done something right.

Mark isn’t all bad. He’s annoying, definitely, but there are small, fleeting instances when he can be okay. Charming, even. The saddest part is that when he’s the most bearable, it’s when he doesn’t realize it’s because he doesn’t have to force it. Force himself and force it on me.

Without thinking, the corner of my lips twitch. “Thanks, Mark.”

“Hey.” He raises his head and I recognize that look in his eyes. That odd sort of determination. Well, it was going to happen sooner or later today.

I braced myself. “Yes?”

“Can we be friends?”

🌙

“So? What’d you say?!”

“Keep it down!” I hissed at Yugyeom, ducking in the booth when the waiter passed and pretended to look at the menu. I tried not to bristle at him, but he was practically lit up with excitement.

He was biting his lip, cradling his face in his hands like a lovestruck little girl.

“This is the start of something beautiful, y’know.”

“Not really.” I wrinkled my nose, trying to keep the ugly scowl off my face. “I told him I’d think about it.”

“YOU SAID – ow!” he yelped and rubbed the spot on his hand where I’d hit him, sulking like I’d poured acid on him instead.

I raised my hand once for good measure. “Stop yelling, you’re worse than my dad.”

“Well sorry if I’m shocked,” he drawls, not sorry at all and goes to look at the menu. In a second, he smiles toothily at me again. “Changed your mind about Captain, huh?”

“Ugh, if I tell you, will you order our food?”

He nods eagerly and raises his hand for our server, almost getting up out of the seat. In fact, he steps one leg out of the booth and looks around waving his hand like a five-year-old.

I slumped back in my seat. My best friend _is_ a five-year-old.

Our waiter was nowhere to be found, but a girl came over. I had a feeling she went to our school with the way she flushed a little when Yugyeom smiled at her. But then, I suppose she just found him good-looking.

It’s definitely from knowing him and being around him for as long as I have, but I forget that he was. Good-looking, I mean. Yugyeom had really delicate features, something he was pretty sensitive about.

Once he joined the baseball team, he changed up his entire look and made an effort to work out a lot more. These days, he’d shed the awkward collared shirts and baggy khakis from freshman year and placed them all for fitted t-shirts, tight jeans, and when he wasn’t headed practice, silk shirts.

Like now, he was wearing a lilac shirt with silk-stitched roses at the chest and along the shoulders and jeans tight enough to cut off his blood circulation.

“We’re both going to have the #9, and the curry to share,” he murmurs, skimming the menu. He looks up and asks me, “Is father coming to pick you up?”

“Yeah, but we have time.”

He nods, then turns back to the waitress with a bright smile and hands her our menus. “A #1 to go, we’ll wait for it after we pay.”

In an odd way, I’m kind of proud of him. Yugyeom used to never talk to girls very well, usually mumbling too low for them to hear or never making eye contact. No doubt being around a bunch of other guys helped, even if they were a little… unsavory, to put it lightly.

“So.” He smirks back at me.

_Damn it._

“It’s not a big deal, so don’t overthink it,” I warn him. I don’t want to take any chances.

For all I know, he could go back to his captain about it. God knows Mark didn’t need any opening and I was not going to give him a single inch if we aren’t even friends yet.

I fold my hands in front of me on the table and try not to squirm uncomfortably under Yugyeom’s curious stare. “I said I’d think about it. He was okay when we went around surveying today.”

Yugyeom tilted his head. “Aaaaaaaand?”

“And,” I shrug. “He got me a coffee and we did more surveying. He asked me if I was going to the kickoff tomorrow.”

“Which you are.”

“Which I am.”

“Did he ask you to wear his jersey?!”

I snorted, “No. What part of ‘friend’ aren’t you getting? Do you just block everything out with your rose-colored glasses and live vicariously through me hoping your life will turn into one of your dramas?”

“I resent that,” he pointed out. “But do you want to wear mine?”

“Absolutely not.”

His mouth fell open, but I stopped him before he could complain. “Give it to someone else, why would you ask me?”

“To get back at him for trying to make you jealous!” He looks around like he’s sharing a secret. “Don’t you want to show up and rub it in Holly’s face?”

“No.” I narrow my eyes, resentful that he’d remember that little stunt on Tuesday. Then again, we were lucky to have gotten any studying done considering that was all he could talk about.

Maybe my life was turning into one of my best friend’s dramas.

“Why not?” he whines.

“Why yes? I don’t care what she thinks.” And why the hell would Holly care what I think? She’s already won the game every girl who’s ever dated Mark has been forced to play. Everyone knows she was playing for keeps; why else would he always end up going back to her?

I bristle at the thought, knowing I was thrown into the court without a say in it.

But then I remember the way Mark looked at me when he asked if we could be friends. That honesty in his voice when he told me that he liked me, that he wanted to show me wasn’t a bad guy. I want to believe that. And if I do, maybe he’d finally leave me alone and realize that he and I just aren’t right for each other.

I rest my face in one hand, covering my mouth with it.

“He’s a good friend to have,” Yugyeom reassures me warmly. “Really. He takes care of the people he cares about. He looks out for us. Even when we don’t ask for it.”

_“Can we be friends?”_

I shut my eyes tightly. How bad could it be to just be friends?

We wouldn’t even have to be close friends. Just enough that he gets it: I don’t want to date him. I won’t have to confide in him or depend on him. At least, after our project, I won’t. And I won’t have to open up to him. Won’t give him the chance to hurt me, just like he’s hurt all those other girls.

I open my eyes, but somehow still can’t find it in me to answer Yugyeom. I don’t how to tell him that the idea of letting someone like Mark – someone selfish – into my life is not an option for me.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with—“

“No.” My voice comes out hoarse and I’m thankful for the bustle of the restaurant. “No, this thing with Mark has nothing… nothing to do with that.”

He nods wordlessly, the guilt etched on his face was enough to remind me that I’d been too harsh.

Pursing my lips, I manage an apologetic and grateful smile. “Hey. Don’t feel bad, okay? My baggage is my baggage. I’m okay. Honest.”

But between us, I know that Yugyeom knows. That I have no place in my heart for someone like Mark. But for the sake of my time at school and even for the rocky place we started in, I would be willing to be his friend. I just wanted to bury whatever we had between us, get him to stop annoying me.

“If he’s willing to just be friends, I’d be okay with it,” I breathe out. “And then he’d realize that we’re just not as good together as he wants us to be.”

There’s a cat-like smile spreading across Yugyeom’s face, calm and collected. “Gotta start somewhere, right?”

🌙

The kickoff was in full swing by the time I came through. I’d gotten to the field late because it was on the opposite side of where I had my lecture – because the universe favors Mark – and students had already found seats on the stands behind the metal fencing of the field.

Amber had texted me in the morning saying she’d save me a seat, but when I found her, I think I would have been better off finding my own spot. Far, far away from the dugout box. I’d even settle for standing near the exit. I mean, Yugyeom would have to squint, but he’d still see me.

She waved to me from her seat as I muttered strained, “excuse me’s” over the music and made my way through the students crowding at the fence. Like most of the others here, Amber had one of her cheeks painted with the single green and white streaks of our school colors and wore a KU Tigers t-shirt.

“How’d you get all the way to the front, anyway?” I asked in an attempt to make conversation and suck it up. Lots of students would kill for my spot. I’d give it to them for free, but Amber went through the trouble and suffered the scornful stares to get us these spots.

She gave me a smug smile, to which I laughed. “Jackson’s my friend. You know how it is. All’s fair in love and war.”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “You mean baseball?”

“Same thing,” she shrugged and handed me a red plastic cup. “Want a beer?”

I look out at the excited students, most of them holding paper bags of beer, red cups, waving foam fingers and completely decked out in school gear. The roaring face of our school’s tiger mascot stared down at me in all forms. Sliced tank tops, cut off cropped tops, and even jerseys that were sold in the school bookstore.

“Oh, what the hell,” I took the cup and swallowed a mouthful. “It’s Friday.”

“And it’s the kickoff,” Amber laughed as she got up to get herself a beer since I took hers. “You can’t stomach this lame thing sober.”

I raised my brows as she passed and laid my bag down at her spot. I sat through two already and barely managed without alcohol.

Looking out at the empty field, I nursed the cold plastic cup in my hand and checked my phone for the time. 1:42.

Technically, it started at 1, but the truth was, the baseball team’s budget was hefty enough that there wasn’t much supervision of their social events. The coach wasn’t present because this event was for the students from the team and if it was going to be anything like the last two years, everyone came at 1 to get absolutely belligerent first.

The team didn’t make an entrance until about 2, and it usually followed the same pattern. It was one big party, with games that the students could participate in with the team. It was a glorified pep rally. Or a mediocre concert.

Either way, it was an excuse to parade the team around before playoffs resumed. I checked the time again. 1:48.

And took another gulp from my plastic cup.

“How’s everybody doing today?” Jackson’s voice echoed through the stands from the microphone at the pitcher’s spot.

The audience cheered and Amber shouted next to me, “Nice socks, nerd!”

In full uniform, green and white jersey and long socks, Jackson took the mic from its stand and pointed at us with his free hand. “Then let’s get this party started! I don’t think the team heard you, HOW’S EVERYBODY DOING TODAY?”

Behind and around me, the crowd erupted in screams and whistles, feeding off of his endless energy.

I take back what I said about him, I don’t like Jackson Wang anymore.

Behind him, the double doors from the team locker room opened. They all ran out a few at a time, bounding onto the field, some even cartwheeling and backflipping. This crowd was going to destroy the sound barrier, if not my eardrums.

When Yugyeom came running out, he practically flew. His long strides kicked sand behind him and he waved at the crowds wildly, grinning and shouting along with them.

Seeing him so excited made me feel a little less annoyed and I felt the alcohol kick in my system as I let out a loud, “Whoo! Kim Yugyeom! Nice socks, nerd!”

Amber nudged me playfully in the ribs and we clinked cups.

The music intensified as the last of the team came out, but the freshman players were noticeably missing. No doubt, they were going to get hazed.

Jackson ran a lap around the team as they lined up side by side, hyping the crowd up with his cheers and rapping along to the track playing.

“What’s up, KU?” he shouted into the mic, “Let’s give a big, roaring Tigers welcome to our new JV players!”

From the double doors, four students ran out in nothing but a pair of green and white striped boxers and their cleats and long socks. On their would-have-been bare chests, a messy orange, black, and white tiger face was painted on them. A big, red tongue stuck out of the mouth and trailed obscenely down their stomachs, disappearing under the boxers.

“Amber,” I shout over the music, “I ran out of beer! You want more?”

She nodded, barely hearing me, but takes my cup and goes to refill it from the keg at the end of the stand. I put my bag on her spot, watching her go in case anything happened. But by now, everyone was sitting or clinging to the fence.

I wasn’t planning on getting hammered here, although this would probably help to be. I watched as Jackson introduced the new players, starting off the event with some bad jokes and asking the other players to introduce themselves by name, position, number, and some useless facts about them.

True to last year’s kickoff, most of them talked about where they’re from, what they look for in a girl, and some other stuff I wish I wasn’t sober to know. Amber came back just in time to miss all of it. Maybe the lines were long because people only came to get wasted.

The games were just about to start after Bobby finished rapping his introduction when Randy took the mic out of Jackson’s hand and stepped out of line. It was a little hard to see, but being that I wasn’t nearly as drunk as everyone else, I could tell by the look on Jackson’s face that this wasn’t part of the lineup.

“Before we start, let’s get to what you all came here for,” Randy announced to the audience with a shit-eating grin. He waved to the line of players before his voice exploded, “Our Tigers Captain, best pitcher this school’s seen, claimed two records and still around for next year. Baddest, total heartbreaker, and my best friend. Give it up, FOR MARK TUAN!”

If it was loud before, the ratio from girls to guys cheering had spiked as Mark jogged from the line over to stand next to Randy. The crowd cheered as they shook hands, intensifying when Mark stops to take a spare mic from Jackson and waves to the crowds.

There’s the Mark we all know. He gives them his signature smile, a bit of that perfect teeth showing as he takes his cap off to push back his hair.

“Uh, hey guys,” his voice echoed into the stands. “Not really sure what’s going on here, but I hope you’ll come see us play! When we win, you’re all invited to the after-party at my place!”

“Alright, alright,” Randy grins as the audience erupts in cheers. “So. Mark, on behalf of our supportive fans, we just want to ask you a couple of questions.”

“Yeah, uh, sure. Shoot, man.”

“Boxers or briefs?”

He had the decency to blush and cover his mouth, even bending over to hide his embarrassment before he stood back up and mumbled, “Boxers.”

I narrow my eyes and Amber meets my gaze, nodding. Didn’t half the girls in these stands already know that? Why were they screaming over it?

“What food would you never give up?”

“My mom’s cooking. She’s the best.”

This was idiotic. I mean, the answer Mark just gave was sweet, but what was the point? No one here could possibly care to know any of this.

“Last one,” Randy said and looked out into the crowd. “If you could date any girl in the school, who would it be?”

Considering he hasn’t already dated half of them.

“And you can’t say Jackson.”

Laughter echoed around me. Against the fence, Holly had stood with her friends, Annie and Wendy, already smiling smugly over their drinks.

 _I’m doing this for my best friend_ , I started repeating to myself, _I’m doing this for Yugyeom. For Yugyeom._

“Uh—“ There was a long pause from Mark and I look up as the crowd starts talking among themselves. He’s rubbing his neck nervously, his teammates now looking curious themselves.

Jackson walked up then and took Mark’s microphone, a concerned look on his face as he starts saying something inaudible with his hand over it.

But Randy just smiled. And it all happens so fast, I think I stopped breathing. I think my stomach fell down into my ass.

“It’s Y/N, of course!” he announces too sweetly and starts walking over to the fence. Beside me, Amber takes my arm, but I can’t really seem to feel it.

I watch as Randy goes up to me and pushes against the gate to the fence. “So, what do you say? Do our poor, pining Captain a favor and let him show you a good time?”

It’s just registered that my cheeks were burning. In an entire baseball field full of drunk groupies and meatheads, I was being asked out by this douchebag. I do the only thing that makes sense to me. I run.

As I shove past other students to the exit, I hear Randy’s laugh behind me, “Sorry, Cap, maybe next kickoff. Hey, don’t let it affect your pitching, right everybody?”

When I reach the closest bathroom, a public one in the field parking lot, I brace myself against the door of the stall. And somehow, I can’t help it, try as I did to squash it down. Now that I was alone, I wanted to cry. And once the thought was in my head, I couldn’t get it out.

I choked on my gasps and sobs, trying to contain them in that quiet stall as every breath reverberated through the walls. I didn’t cry. I refused to let myself cry like this. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help thinking, _What if Mark had planned this?_

_Heyyyyy I got ur stuff, I’ll wait for u in the parking lot._

I stayed in the bathroom stall until I felt safe to go; when I’ve sobered up enough to collect myself. Granted, I was tipsy at best, but I didn’t want to leave until then. I texted Amber, telling her that I’d find her car once she lets me know this thing ends.

Yugyeom definitely wouldn’t have his phone until it ended and if Mark thought I’d even answer his texts, he was even dumber than his stupid teammates. I blocked both of their numbers, at least for the rest of the night.

Maybe for the weekend. Nothing personal against Yugyeom and everything personal against Mark; I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to go home.

But the sound of shoes clicked against the floor and I quickly got out, not wanting to run into anyone or stop and talk, whether I knew them or not.

“There you are.”

And unfortunately for me, I did.

Holly came in, surprisingly alone, wearing our school’s t-shirt that was tied up and tucked in around her rib cage, showing her toned stomach, and cut-off shorts. She crossed her arms over her chest, a withering glare on her face.

“He only likes you because you don’t,” she says icily. “He’ll get bored and come back to me. He always does.”

I grit my teeth and muster all the nerve I have in me to glare back at her.

“ _Good_ ,” I bite out, surprising myself. “You can keep him.”

I dart past her, no longer feeling safe to hide out in the bathroom. Outside, Annie and Wendy stood against the wall of the building, like a pair of side characters in a high school drama. They were all talk, they wouldn’t touch me.

I ignore them and made my way to the parking lot, letting Amber know I’m there so I can get my stuff.

_My car’s the yellow one, in the middle! U ok? I can drop u off :(_

My footsteps are heavy as I continue the distance from the bathroom to the nearly empty parking lot. The kickoff must have ended already and everyone had gone home. Or to their dorms in the building across the street.

I step in just as shouting could be heard in the distance, probably a drunk fight. Sports and alcohol turned guys into complete animals.

Carefully moving closer to the side, I try to look out for Amber’s yellow car, but as I got closer, I recognize the group that gathered just in front of a familiar black car.

“—could you do that?! What the fuck, Randy?!”

Jackson looked between them cautiously, the worry evident in his face as Mark stood with his fists at his side. Was he shaking?

“Hey, dude, relax. Everyone already knows you like her.”

I watched as Randy leaned against the hood of his silver car, his shoulders slack and perfectly relaxed. Bored, even.

In an instant, Mark is being held away by Jackson, who steps in front of him with every blind attempt Mark took duck away and get to Randy. Randy didn’t even blink.

“You embarrassed her in front of everyone there,” he bit out, the snarl in the edge of his voice making me shrink back against the fence. I ducked down in front of a car, trying to stay calm, stay hidden.

“So?”

“So now she hates me!” he shouted and footsteps skid along the concrete. “Shit, she hated me before. She _despises_ me now. She can’t fucking stand me now, what the fuck were you thinking?!”

“It’s not like you were getting far with her, man.” Randy sucks his teeth. “Jeez, get over it, everyone will forget by the time Monday rolls around.”

Jackson mumbles under his breath, “Don’t listen to him. Just walk away, Mark, don’t do this—“

“Get off me!” I shut my eyes as sounds of feet skidding gets louder, the rustling of clothing, shoving.

“Look, I didn’t think it’d be bad, Mark—“

“That’s because you don’t think, Wong!” He throws his cap to the floor with a loud, hollow pop. His voice echoes through the lot, angrier than I ever thought Mark Tuan could get. “You never think, the only thing on your mind is yourself. Looking cool, getting girls. You don’t care about anyone else.”

Randy straightens up, taking proud steps towards him as Jackson has Mark’s arms trapped in his hold. Mark’s knuckles are white, fists shaking.

“You think you’re better than me?” Randy’s face twists into a mocking sneer, raising a hand to point dangerously close to Mark’s face.

“Randy, back up,” Jackson barks at him, “Go to your car, get out of here.”

“No, Jacks, my best friend wants to get into this. You think you’re better than me, Mark? You want to talk shit? Man, how many girls have you gone through? You want to act all big now over a piece like that?”

“What did you just call her.”

“Back the fuck up, Randy,” Jackson growls.

“You’re a jackass, Mark,” he lets out a high laugh, shaking his head, but he turns on his heel. “I mean, shit, I said I was sorry. You know what, this is why she doesn’t like you. You’re a jackass with your big fancy car that your parents got you and all your shit with these girls and Holly.”

By now, Mark had stood with Jackson holding him back, but he didn’t make any move to get to Randy. His back to me, his whole neck tense. His hands still shaking.

Randy sucks his teeth, shaking his head. “I was doing you a favor,” he shrugs and gets into his car. He pulls out and not until his car is gone does Jackson let go of Mark.

He slumps, the only movement he made in that time. “You ruined everything,” he croaks out for no one to hear.

My stomach twists as I pull out my phone to text Amber. I hug my knees up to my chest, avoiding the loose fence behind me to keep from being found.

Jackson puts an arm around him, sighing out tiredly. “Let’s go back and shower first. Okay? It’s gonna be alright.”

“No, Jackson, it’s not.” He hangs his head, his breath hissing, “She already hates me. She hates me now, Jackson. She hates me. Damn it. And she even said she’d think about being friends. Fuck.”

“Then just—“

“No, you don’t get it. It’s not like I can apologize to her and tell her what happened. She’ll never believe me.”

I cover my face and close my eyes, wishing this day would just end. The car door clicks open and then close, but I don’t know how long I sat there waiting for them to leave before I could call Amber and tell her what happened.

I still don’t have a hold on what just happened. All I know is that I’m sitting alone on the asphalt, not knowing where my guilt begins and ends. But that Yugyeom was right. Mark did look out for the people he cared about.

This time, he deserves a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/wangdeux) if you want, it's free!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When everything is shattering and it’s my mistake, only fools fall for you._

My dad once told me that the easiest thing to do in this world is to forgive someone. The only problem is, he left out what to do if you yourself are the one asking for it.

It’s not his fault, I’ve always been too stubborn for my own good. But then, who would have ever thought that I’d be the one to apologize to Mark Tuan – for anything? The more I think about it, the more uncomfortable I get.

“Why are you making that face, kid?”

I look up from my laptop and lean back against the couch. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“You look like someone has been spitting in your coffee.”

I let out something between a groan and a whine as I rub my eyes and cheeks, trying to relax the muscles in my face. It’s Sunday, two days since Randy embarrassed me in front of an entire baseball diamond full of people.

And two days since I thought about what I should say to Mark. I keep thinking he’d send me an email or text, at least to keep me updated on his part of our study, so I can at least use that excuse to tell him I’m not mad at him. But I got nothing. Not on our study, not even an annoying selfie asking for my snapchat. I was shocked, to say the least.

My dad turns the tv volume down and puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure everyone’s forgotten about it. Besides, you’re on spring break. Those bougie kids will be too busy bragging about their awesome trip to some island off the coast of wherever to remember what happened.”

“Mark’s avoiding me,” I mumble lowly.

“What?”

It takes everything not to groan. “Dad, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, I heard you the first time.” He squints, frowning to hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Isn’t that what you always wanted? For him to leave you alone?”

Yes. Yes, it was exactly what I wanted. In the two years we’ve known each other, Mark is actually leaving me alone.

But I would have been okay with that if it wasn’t all because Randy Wong was running his stupid mouth for ten minutes.

All weekend, I’ve been trying to concentrate on school work to get my mind off the humiliation only for my thoughts to keep straying towards my guilt.

“You weren’t there.” I stare down at my computer screen, trying not to think about it. But the more I tried, the more vividly it just kept coming back. Mark standing there with his shoulders slumped, his back to me and his voice thick with frustration or sadness, I don’t know. Both?

“I didn’t know Mark could get angry.”

It was hard to believe it even happened, but I saw it. And I felt the knot in my stomach there even after Amber dropped me off. I couldn’t imagine how something like that could be so important to him. I didn’t understand what being friends with me could mean to him.

I just couldn’t make sense of it. Didn’t want to, really.

“You know I’m always on your team,” dad says softly. “But you don’t know him. Much. Or really at all.”

I was beginning to resent that all over again. _“You don’t even know me.”_ And I know it’s because for once, this time, it held some truth to it. I didn’t know Mark at all except for whatever act he was always putting on to get me to date him.

“Not that the Tuan boy was helping his own case. I get that, he hasn’t done anything to make you want to know him,” dad points out quickly as I shoot him a pointed look. “Look, all I’m saying is, if you feel bad, just tell him he doesn’t need to avoid you. Do it for your project.”

“He thinks I hate him.”

“Never bothered you before.”

“He thinks I wouldn’t listen if he said sorry.”

“And you wouldn’t have.” Dad shrugs when I frown. “You wouldn’t be wrong not to believe him. If you weren’t at the wrong place at the right time, you wouldn’t even know he thinks that about you.”

I rest my head against the wall of our living room. I’m not sure what to say that. Yes, it never bothered me before because at least if Mark thought I hated him, it never bothered him before either. It’s just that we were just starting to put it all behind us.

The unwanted attention, annoying me any chance he got, asking me out all the time. The stress, the headaches, dreading going to Gender Psych.

That was gone altogether, but it was at _his_ expense. I mean, I don’t want him to go back to the way it was before, but it doesn’t sit right with me that he’s avoiding me for the wrong reasons. Like if he apologized, I wouldn’t believe him.

And maybe my guilt came from the fact that my dad was right. If I hadn’t seen those three almost fighting in the parking lot, I wouldn’t have thought Mark was sincere if he said sorry. I probably would’ve thought he wanted the whole thing to happen anyway.

But I keep remembering the sound of his voice. Like it was his fault that this happened, not Randy’s. And how his hands shook so badly, his knuckles were white from clenching them into fists so hard.

_“You ruined everything.”_

_“She already hates me.”_

_“She’ll never believe me.”_

“But I know Mark thinks that about me, that’s the difference. I don’t feel good about that,” I admit in a small voice.

He lets out a sympathetic, “oh” as he puts an arm around my shoulder. “It’s not your fault. Usually, it’s his fault. But this time, it’s someone else’s and the fact that it wasn’t him has got you all out of whack.”

“You’re terrible at this, dad.”

“Well, I’m not wrong,” he grins smugly. “The truth is either terrible or boring and the truth in all this is, you feel bad because this Randy guy hurt you, but the only one who’s sorry about it is the guy who’s too scared to even say he is. Why would you feel good knowing that?”

Have I mentioned that I hate when other people are right? Because it isn’t just limited to Mark.

“I mean, you can’t blame the guy. You’re absolutely terrifying and I raised you so well.”

I shove him away as he laughs, trying not to smile myself. “Whatever, just stop giving me advice.”

🌙

“Hey, it’s me. Uh—“ I stopped to suck in a breath before holding my phone back up to my ear. “I just wanted to call about our study, see if you were able to do any surveying today. Um, and if you have time during the break, we should meet to make sure we’re on track. So.”

This was so nerve-wracking. And awkward. Should I say sorry? Would my dignity be any more at stake?

“Yeah, so text me or something. Bye.”

I put my phone down on my desk and went to lay down as if I just shouldered the weight of the world. Or however much my humility weighed, god knows what Mark could be thinking. Or what Yugyeom would make of this if Mark shows him the voicemail.

_Ugh, who am I kidding? Why wouldn’t Mark show him?_

I take a deep breath and pull my pillow from under me to groan into it.

Why was this such a big deal? It’s just Mark, what’s the worst he could do?

Hold it over me. Maybe think I owe him something now. Try to somehow use it twist my arm and get me to go out with him?

No. Mark is a lot of things. Annoying. Has no sense of boundaries. He couldn’t take a hint to save both our lives. But he wasn’t malicious.

_“You embarrassed her in front of everyone there.”_

I hold the pillow to my chest, press it into my stomach to suppress the feeling that tugged at me.

_“You want another coffee? My treat?”_

Every time I hear his voice in my head from that day, I stop myself. I tell myself that I shouldn’t feel bad, knowing that it’s not my fault. But part of me knows that I misjudged him and Mark was avoiding me because of it.

_“She’ll never believe me.”_

My hands tighten around the pillow and I shut my eyes tightly, shaking away the memory. Even when he’s avoiding me, Mark is still somehow in my head.

_Randy Wong. Asshole._

A loud, buzzing sound cuts through my thoughts. I sit up and crawl over the end of my bed to look at my phone, but a sudden cold sort of panic settles in the pit of my stomach. It could only be one person.

I peer down at the lit up screen like it was a waiting explosive as the bright letters, J E R K stared back at me. A countdown to a ticking time bomb.

_Answer it. Answer it so it doesn’t get worse. Do it for your project._

I cleared my throat before tapping the green answer icon. I wait for him to speak, but the other line is silent. I wonder if any of his teammates are with him. I vaguely wonder if he’s got me on speaker.

But on the other end, I only hear his even breaths. Was he waiting for me to say something? He’s the one who called me. Was this going to be a contest or something, first to talk loses?

Finally, after I hear him inhale sharply, he sighs out, “Hi.”

I swallow back my exasperation. “Hey. Did you get my voicemail?”

Silence.

“Mark?”

“Yes,” he breathes out like he’s been holding his breath. “Yeah, I-I did. Um, yes.”

I blink, narrowing my eyes. I’m pretty sure I’m frowning, but he’s not here to see it, so I ask, “Do you think we can meet up to work on the study?”

“Do you?” There’s a cold edge to his voice, not like when he almost lunged at Randy. But he sounded tired.

I swallow and shrug only to realize, again, we’re on the phone. “It’s our grade, Mark. Isn’t that important to you?”

He’s quiet on the other line again.

I sit back against the bedframe, pulling my knees up to my chest. He can’t still be feeling this bad over what happened. Even he had to know that everyone would just forget by the time classes start back up.

“Mark—“

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

“It wasn’t—“

“I know you don’t think I am, but I am sorry.”

“Mark, I—“ I try to tell him that I know, but he doesn’t stop.

“Even if you don’t believe me—“ And something tugs at me again as he says this.

“—I know I’m a jerk and that I just bother you all the time, I’m still sorry. Even if I don’t deserve it.” His voice lowers. It is soft and, I think, afraid. I lower my eyes, my phone now hot against my cheek.

_“You ruined everything.”_

“And I’m a selfish, conceited prick.” The words are harsh in my ear, but he sounds so gentle. “I still am for saying all this and making it about me, but I really am sorry. The last thing I wanted was for that to happen to you. I never want anything like that to happen to you.”

My throat feels tight. As if with all his gentleness, all the things he said and I can hear in his voice that he meant, my guilt could strangle me.

“And—“ He pauses. “If you don’t want to be stuck with me, I’ll email Professor S. She’ll understand. And we can just figure it out. You won’t have to work with me.”

I’ve never seen Mark angry until that day. I’ve never heard him sorry until now. The least I could do, since Randy clearly hasn’t taken any personal responsibility, is forgive Mark. Not for the way he acted before or the things he did, but forgive him because he did try to defend me. He deserves that much.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” I force out a chuckle. “Mark, I was in the parking lot. I heard what you said.”

“Oh.” He clears his throat.

“I know you’re sorry. And I don’t blame you for avoiding me.” I leave out the fact that he was only partly right to. “I probably wouldn’t have listened to your apology.”

He laughs nervously from the other line. “You heard that part too, huh? Sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“Sorry.”

I let out a groan and his laughter, a different sound from his nervous chuckles that I’m used to, is high-pitched and almost a stream of squeals in my ear. Like a hyena. Weirdly enough, I find myself smiling with relief.

“Listen,” I clear my throat once he stops. “I already surveyed eight more people over the weekend, so how much did you get done?”

“Uh, well, I uh—“

“Did you make _any_ progress?” I ask sharply.

“Yeah!” Mark says hastily, “I did, I mean, I just didn’t get to as many as you. It’s just that our first game was Saturday.”

 _Oh._ That’s why Yugyeom hadn’t talked to me since Friday night. He’d left me a voicemail checking on me, but I was so emotionally drained. And a little winded from Amber driving me home, but I had too much on my mind and even more to vent to my dad.

“Did you win?”

“Yeah.” He sounds surprised that I asked. “Um, we did, it was a close game. Gyeom got to pitch.”

“Congratulations,” I say, sincerely, glad that Yugyeom got to actually play. “He must have been happy about it.”

“He was so psyched, you had to see it. I mean, if you want to. I’m definitely talking to coach about putting him in for playoffs. When we get there, I mean.”

I resist the urge to point out _if_ they get there. “I’ll think about it.”

“So I surveyed four today after my morning practice,” Mark admitted.

I frowned. “Wait, what about everything you said? You were ready to switch groups if I was mad enough.”

The other line is quiet again, but only for a second when he murmurs sheepishly, “I figured you wouldn’t want to switch since we’ve already started doing the work for it.”

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe pigs were flying, maybe Mark wasn’t really Mark and I was talking to an alien clone, maybe hell was freezing over.

But I laugh. He doesn’t laugh with me, but I actually laugh because it’s true and I laugh out of disbelief. How the hell did he figure that?

“Mark? You still there?”

“Yeah,” he says quickly and I hear him exhale. “Yeah, sorry, I just—you’ve never really laughed at something I said before. That’s all.”

Maybe the world was ending.

“I’m not that mean to you, am I?” I ask, partly curious, but I mask it with sarcasm.

“You are kinda scary. I mean, you’re not like, a mean person, you’re just sort of – intimidating? Stand-offish, I guess. Which I understand, you have every right to-to be that way, towards me…” he trails off.

“Right.”

This is awkward, talking about our faults. I didn’t think someone as arrogant as Mark comes off could be as self-deprecating as he is. Jeez, was I that mean to him or did he just feel responsible for Friday?

“If you want to meet up, I’m free this whole week after morning practices. I can’t miss those, but after that, I’m all yours. Starting tomorrow?”

There’s the Mark I know. Hopeful, latching onto any opening he can get. I rest my head against the headboard and put him on speaker to check the time.

“That’s fine, I’ll bring some work to do in the library while I wait. When does it end?”

“I can just meet you there,” he offers eagerly before clearing his throat. “I mean, save you the trip. The field is… y’know, I doubt you want to go there. I’ll just meet you at the library.”

Not where I want to go, especially to meet him in front of his teammates. Or rather, just one. At least guys like Jackson and Yugyeom had the decency to be concerned. Mark was right – and for once I didn’t resent that.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you in the library then.”

“Cool.”

“Mark?”

“Yeah?”

I hold my breath. “I appreciate it.”

He’s silent again and I hope he doesn’t ask me out. I don’t want to ruin this conversation and bring us back to square one, old sleazy Mark rearing his ugly head at me to run his hands through his hair and give me one of his flirtatious, shit-eating smirks.

But all he says back is, “Of course. It’s the least I can do.”

And I know I can’t see him. I think that I do hear it through the phone, in the way he says it and how he sounds, and know that Mark is smiling.

“Oh, hey,” he says suddenly, “Gyeom wants to know if it’s safe to call? He’s uh, he said he’s worried about you.”

If you told me two years ago that Mark Tuan would be the one talking to me for Kim Yugyeom, I would have ignored you and let you keep waiting for aliens to land on earth before that ever happened. But here we are.

“Tell him I’ll text him. Or I’ll see him tomorrow.” I can’t decide. I’m still a little dazed and confused. And grumpy now realizing that both my dad and my best friend were right. I am pretty dramatic.

“Well,” his voice echoes in my ear, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

“Mark?” I ask for him quickly before he could hang up.

“Hm?”

“I—“ _Please don’t let me regret this._ “I hope we can try. To be friends, I mean. You and I.”

My hand tightens slightly around my knee as the other one clutches my phone like it can go off any minute. I can’t even believe I said it out loud let alone said it to the one person who wouldn’t have ever heard those words come out of my mouth.

“Me too,” he answers, his voice just above a whisper. Was he scared too? “Thank you.”

I try to laugh nonchalantly. “For wanting to try?”

“For giving me a chance.”

I don’t know what to say that, so I don’t say anything. But my throat has stopped hurting and my chest feels lighter. I rest my head against my knee, staring down at the screen. We’re both not saying anything. Just listening to each other’s silence. Somehow, it didn’t feel so uncomfortable, knowing we were okay now.

“Randy’s an asshole,” I said off-handedly.

“Yeah. He is.”

I laugh and this time, Mark laughs with me.

“Good night, Mark,” I say with ease. His name rolls off my tongue, without the venom I’m used to spraying at him or anyone else who brings him up to me.

“Good night.” He says my name before he hangs up. If it was possible, I feel just a little bit lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/wangdeux) if you want, it's free!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought to myself, ‘if you really like her, you don’t quit’.”
> 
> “Even after I asked you to? So you figured you could wear me down or something?”
> 
> “It was a mistake.”
> 
> “It was fucked up.”

When I think about my friends, I’m either grateful to even have any friends at all or I want to lay down; there’s no in-between. When I think about Mark somewhere on that spectrum, the only end he seems to fit is the one where I end up really tired. And that would be the best-case scenario.

I remember thinking to myself how much better I feel now that he wasn’t avoiding me for all the wrong reasons, but as I made my way to campus, my stomach was churning up a storm of nerves.

So instead of heading into the library, I walked across school grounds to get myself another coffee, chucking my empty coffee cup away after crushing it between twitchy fingers.

“Make it a large, double shot of espresso.”

I reach into my bag for my wallet, but stop when the register rings up my order and the barista says, “No charge.”

I frown and look up at the boy who smiles back at me. I stare at him as he writes my name on the cup, thinking maybe he knows me from somewhere. Maybe we were classmates a few semesters ago?

“Um—“ I pause when he doesn’t say anything. So I read his name tag and awkwardly call for him. “Joshua? Do we…?”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at the dollar bill in my hand and then at his name tag before waving at me to put my money away. “Mark Tuan’s girlfriend shouldn’t be paying for coffee.”

_Girlfriend?_

“Girlfriend?” I look behind me to see if anyone was on line before leaning over the counter. Did they turn the heat up in here?

I swallow thickly, a nervous chuckle escaping me. “Girlfriend?”

Joshua frowns as one of his coworkers takes the cup with my name on it. “Sorry, you aren’t? I thought since the kick-off—“

“You thought wrong,” I blurt out abruptly. Rudely. I didn’t mean to, but it did come out rude. Without thinking, I turn around and hurry out of the shop. My cheeks were burning and I can hear the staff calling behind me for my coffee, but I couldn’t think.

I needed answers and the two idiots I needed them from were too busy hitting balls with sticks.

As I power walk back towards the library, I try Yugyeom’s phone first. Straight to voicemail.

“You better have no idea what I’m talking about when I see you later,” I growl, then hang up and try Mark’s. He’s still under “J” for “J E R K”.

As it rings, I contemplate chewing his ass out, but by the time his voicemail instructions came on, I was already too frustrated to think of any coherent insults. I put my phone on vibrate and shoved it in my bag, thankful that it was spring break.

While most of the bougie kids on campus left to go on extravagant spring break getaways, I was in the library. Seething in my silence. Trying not to jump the gun and assume the absolute worst.

Who else knows? Who was Joshua to Mark that he went to the kick-off and assumed from _that_ incident that I was now his girlfriend?

I set my bag down with a loud _thud_ , earning an exasperated glare from the librarian a few feet away. I hold up my hand in a lame, soundless apology, still too flustered to think about anything else.

 _Okay_ , I breathe out and sit down, folding my hands in front of me. _Calm down. Ask him later. Start your work._

Almost robotically, I take out my notebook, the datum of survey answers Mark and I had so far, and my laptop. I place my phone far from everything else near the edge of the table, in case either of theme text or call me.

I start typing up what we’ve gathered so far and try to stay focused, reading lines of answers over and over again. Or maybe they’re all just starting to look the same because the answers are all more or less misogynistic to the core.

Either way, it wasn’t helping. My eyes keep veering towards my phone thinking the screen flashed to show a new text only for me to check and find nothing, and I check the time for when morning practice ends every few minutes.

I contemplate going to the baseball field to confront Mark myself, get it over with, but I know I wasn’t ready to face his teammates. At this point, whatever pride I had left that Mark didn’t step on was pretty much shared between my dad and Yugyeom. And I didn’t want to see Randy.

 _Randy!_ It made sense, the whole thing was his fault. If he hadn’t opened his big mouth, none of this would have happened. Right?

But I’m not at ease. The guy is Mark’s friend. Or was. I don’t know, I don’t care, but I know that if Mark really wanted to be _my_ friend, he would stay at the good distance I intend to keep him.

I’d be lying if I didn’t have my doubts about being friends. I’m willing to put his misgivings behind us, and mine too even though they didn’t amount to the two years he spent badgering me to go out with him. But I want to try.

This could very well blow up in my face and I don’t allow myself to forget that. He had been selfish and conceited. And annoying.

But, as I am starting to remind myself, Mark can also be decent. I remember how he smiled down at his lap when I noticed he knew how I liked my coffee. Shyly, I think, like someone was watching. But proud of himself. He can be thoughtful, even.

And the stupidest thing I can do is let my guard down in front of him. Being friends is easy. It’s opening up to him that I absolutely don’t want to fall into.

I let out a huff, then start typing up all our findings again. This pity party should have been over the minute it started and there is no use in burning bridges that haven’t even been built.

Before the week ends, everyone will forget what happened. Who cares if anyone thinks I’m Mark’s girlfriend? He’ll just get a new one once classes start back up again.

🌙

By the time Mark came around, I’d started on work for my other classes and I could tell it was him because the librarian was hissing about dirt being dragged into the building from his cleats.

“Sorry I’m late,” he whispered – or gasped – loudly as he slides into the seat across from mine. It creaks loudly, but I hide a smile because I know the woman who unfortunately had to work during the break hated us. But she was kind of mean, so why not let Mark torment her a little? Even if he didn’t mean to.

I purse my lips to keep from laughing. _Especially_ if he didn’t mean to.

“It’s okay,” I say lowly, peering up at him from my books. “You didn’t get a chance to shower after practice?”

I watch as he takes his cap off, placing it on the table as he hastily gets printouts and pens out from his backpack.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” he answers, fidgeting slightly as he twirls a pen between his fingers. “And, well, I wanted to get here as soon as I can. I think, uh, well, I don’t know how to say this.”

I narrow my eyes as he rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “Joshua the latte boy at the Starbucks near building D thought I was your girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” Mark blurts out, wincing and waving apologetically when he gets shushed. He lowers his voice and leans over the table, licking his lips nervously. “Yeah, some of the kids who came out Friday was spreading rumors and – I mean, everyone was really drunk, so – I-I mean, that’s not an excuse. I just mean—“

“Mark.”

He clears his throat. “What’s up?”

“You weren’t the one who started them, right?”

“No,” he almost hisses, shaking his head fervently. “No way, I just heard about it today. When I went to get coffee, I ran into—“ Mark paused and his lip twitches before he let out a short chuckle. “Josh the latte boy. He told me you came in.”

“And what’d you say?” I ask carefully.

“I told him it wasn’t true and bolted over to explain.”

Wow. I nod, relieved and honestly, a little surprised. One small step for everyone else, one giant leap for Mark Tuan.

“I forgot our coffee, though,” he says with a sheepish grin. But the lines in his face slack as his eyes sweep over the books and my computer on the table between us before they meet mine. “I was scared you’d be mad at me.”

“Okay, you have to be honest with me right now, am I really that mean to you?” By the sound of it, Mark made me out to be the grim reaper. Or a really terrible girlfriend. If he was this scared to upset me, I can’t imagine what his relationship with Holly’s like.

He shakes his head again, this time smiling at the space between us. “You didn’t say or do anything that I didn’t deserve. I was really annoying.”

True. I clamp my mouth shut.

“I want us to be friends. I should have just done that two years ago. That’s all.”

As he shrugs, I try to find the lie, find any trace of insincerity. Of course, people are people and it’s not easy to tell when someone is hiding who they are. But I believe him.

And if he hadn’t defended me in front of his friends, I don’t think I would have ever wanted anything to do with Mark. At the very least, for standing up for me, I could give being friends a real chance. Besides, I don’t think we’d be very close, anyway. We’re too different.

But at least, if we’re friends, nobody gets disappointed. No one gets hurt.

“Well, good,” I shrug back and manage a polite smile. “Friends. I can do that.”

“That’s all I ask,” he nods with a breath of relief. “Just to show you that I’m not a shithead.”

“Speaking of friends.” I grab my phone from the table and check to see if my best friend had returned my call. “Yugyeom didn’t come with you?”

“He said you sounded really mad over the phone. Was it about that thing with the latte boy?”

My mouth falls into a silent ‘o’, so I nod, “One sec,” before I send him a text. _‘False alarm, I’m not pissed at you. Sorry, I’ll buy you dinner?’_

Before I put it back down, my phone vibrates.

_‘Apology accepted!!!!!’_

I scowl. Smug little—

“Anyway.” I open my laptop and turn it around for Mark to see the progress we’ve made. “Between the two of us, we’ve surveyed eighteen out of fifty students. I really don’t have enough to start making a chart yet, but a lot of the responses are more or less the same.”

“Shit.” He lifts a hand to my computer but stops to look at me. “May I?”

“Go for it.”

I watch him scroll through, one hand taking the hard copy drafts of our notes too. I can’t help but hope that every day we meet for the study will be like this. Actually, I can’t believe Mark is actually catching himself up to the work.

_Don’t jinx yourself._

As long as we’re productive and can get actual work done, I won’t want for anything else.

Except for coffee. I still could really use a double shot of espresso to keep me awake. And a boost of energy to tolerate people if we do any surveying today.

Mark slumps back in his chair before he pushes my laptop back to me. “Well, we just got started.” He taps his chin and looks down at his lap. “I mean, we’ve got a lot of male students tallied here, so let’s try to even it out today. We’ll go around for female students this time.”

I must have made a stank face because he let out something between a laugh and squeal. “What?”

“I think I should be the one to ask. And record. Mark, no offense, but—“ I shrug. “You’ve upset a lot of girls we go to school with.”

“This is a big campus.”

“Those girls have friends too.”

“A lot of people went away for spring break.”

“Everyone knows about the kind of reputation you have.” I tilt my head. “You really think tagging along is going to get us unbiased answers?”

He frowns at this and I realize I’m being harsh. But Mark has to know the consequences of his actions. At the very least, he made lasting impressions on most of the girls he’s dated. Even on me, and I’m one of the few students here who _don’t_ want to date him. Or hasn’t. And in my case, most likely never will.

“Sorry,” I say softly. “I’m not trying to insult you.”

He doesn’t say anything, which makes me feel uncomfortable. It’s weird because we’re trying to be friends. Normally, I’m sure he’d go on the defense or try to walk away. Both reactions I would have preferred over his flirting.

More than being uncomfortable, though, I’m afraid that Mark is one of those guys. The kind of jerks who try to make up excuses for why they do the things they do or blame it on something they have no business pinning blame on. Like bad parenting or whatever.

Resting his chin in one hand, he stares down at the table like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“To be honest, I was shitty to them.” His eyes flicker to me, then back down. “To a lot of them, really. But it was nice to feel wanted, even if I didn’t really want them. Even to Holly. I used her to make you jealous.”

My stomach grows tight. I don’t know what to say to that.

Mark purses his lips as he turns to look out the window. Seconds pass, turning into minutes. I wait for him, trying to figure out what he’s thinking if he’s thinking at all. He looks indifferent. Oddly, I felt sorry for him. Not because he deserved it, but I felt sorry for him if he thought that feeling wanted was more important than how his needs made someone else felt.

He turns back to look at me and smiles, breathing out a laugh he didn’t mean. I wonder if it tasted bitter in his mouth.

“I’m not the kind of guy who deserves someone like you.” But his gaze holds mine. “If I’m telling the truth, I haven’t been the kind of guy any girl should want. But there was something about you that made me not want to quit.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I ask before I can take it back.

“I know nothing I did would make you want to say yes.”

“So why didn’t you stop?” I could feel myself growing frustrated talking about this. Maybe I shouldn’t keep asking, I shouldn’t even humor him by hearing him out, but for as long as I’ve known Mark, I never thought he deserved an explanation. So why did I let him now?

My fingers twitched under the table as I waited for him to answer, pulse racing and heart threatening to plummet down to my stomach.

“I should have,” he answers softly. His voice sounds far away. Not right across from me. Like he doesn’t belong here and we both know it. “But I kept listening to my gut. Because I am selfish. I thought to myself, ‘if you really like her, you don’t quit’.”

“Even after I asked you to? So you figured you could wear me down or something?”

“It was a mistake.”

I shake my head, my jaw clenched tight. “It was fucked up.”

“And I can’t say how sorry I am.” His voice is hoarse, thick with a sadness I didn’t want to understand. That I could never forgive. If I forgave him for doing that to me, we shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t try.

“I don’t want you to forgive me for the bad things,” Mark says through the thick silence. “I know you won’t. I just want you to know that I won’t do that to you again. I want you to know I regret what I did. And I never want anything, what I did or what Randy did – I never want to hurt you.”

I stare at him because I don’t know what to say. I follow the lines of his face and trace the shape of his dark eyes, not knowing whether I should be looking for tell-tale signs of dishonesty. I don’t have to. I know he’s sorry.

So why am I so afraid?

“Friends don’t hurt each other.” I can’t bring myself to force a smile, but the tightness in my jaw had slowly gone away and I let out a shaky breath as steady as I can. “If I don’t think we can be friends, I’m going to tell you. And I trust you to respect that.”

Without hesitating, Mark lets out a breath he looked like he was holding. “I won’t let you down.”

“Good. Let’s go get some coffee.”

“I feel like that guy was lying,” Mark murmurs as he reads over the answers he just recorded. “’Women are people too, you know’? Sounds like he logged into tumblr once and named himself a feminist.”

“I can’t tell which is worse,” I shrug and hold my hand out for the papers in his hands. “The ones who lie and pretend to care, or the ones who don’t bother and call all girls sluts.”

He hands them to me, shaking his head in agreement. “At least we got to interview some girls. And some of the male students today weren’t so bad.”

“True, so at least we have variety in the sample pool.”

As we walk back to the library, I notice his cleats kicking and dragging some leftover dirt from the sandlot. His socks must reek, we’ve been all over campus.

“I should let you go,” I say sympathetically. “You didn’t even get to shower today.”

Mark looks down at his full uniform, rubbing his thumb along the faint yellow stains before laughing sheepishly. “Yeah, well, it’s not gonna be this bad next time around. I panicked today, with Josh the latte boy and you know. I wanted to make a good impression as your study partner.”

I nod as we make our way to the dorm and he takes his phone out to text Yugyeom that I was stopping by.

“That’s thoughtful of you,” I say, “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

We continue on in silence and I welcomed it. Along the way, I’d peer over at him to see if he was tired, but Mark never complained. He just looked ahead, or smiled at his feet and sling his bag from one shoulder over to the other one. When he thought I wasn’t looking, I’d feel his eyes move in my direction, but if I caught him, I didn’t let him know.

I could be okay with this. This was harmless.

As the dorm building came into view, my phone vibrated in my pocket and I frowned as I looked at the caller ID.

Mark stopped walking when he noticed I hadn’t followed and stood over me curiously. “Gyeom?”

“My dad,” I mouth and hold the phone to my ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothing much!” He sounds too happy. I don’t always trust that. “How’d it go today? Did you kill him?”

I rolled my eyes. Of course, my nosy father never lets the stress of work keep him from laughing at my expense. I look over to Mark, who mouths, “Are you okay?”

I nod, turning to pace as I answer, “It was fine, I’m with Mark now. We got work done.”

“You don’t say!”

“Dad,” I scowl.

“Is Yugyeom with you?” he asks, ignoring my irritation.

“We’re almost at his dorm. Why?”

“Great! Let’s all grab dinner, I’m starving.”

I just _had_ to ask why. “Dad, I’m sure Mark’s busy—“

“I just need to shower,” he blurts out next to me, “But I’m not busy.”

“See? I’ll meet you guys at that Thai place near your school in half an hour. Be good, love you!”

I can picture my father grinning in his office chair. I bet he’s telling his coworkers about this right now as he’s getting ready to clock it. I think I’m going to develop a permanent twitch in at least one of my eyes.

Mark stares at me staring down at my phone. The screen has gone dark. He’s still in full uniform, which he’s had on since the morning. Six in the morning, if my memory serves me correctly.

“Sorry,” he whispers, like a child who got caught stealing candy and was too afraid to give it back.

I lick the roof of my mouth as I think of all the ways to calm down. “It’s not your fault. So do you like Thai food?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/wangdeux) if you want, it's free!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years ago, if you’d told me that I’d be having dinner with my dad, my best friend, and Mark Tuan, I would have ignored you because that was never going to happen.

“You okay?”

I opened one eye. Amber was looking at me, concerned. She smiled, but we both know this conversation was going to stray to the same subject. Aside from Yugyeom, I think Amber is one of the few friends I had who understood the depth of my feelings for Mark.

It wasn’t so much that I was uncomfortable having dinner with three of the most annoying men in my life. It was that dad and Yugyeom were entirely too comfortable and, by the looks of things, Mark wasn’t sure if it was okay to get comfortable.

How do I describe the feelings I had experienced; frustrated? Exasperated? Done before it even started?

“I’m still recovering from last night,” I answered after some thought.

“Ah.” Amber nodded, pursing her lips. She reached across the table and pat the top of my head. Somehow, that was kind of comforting.

“Jackson told me. How was it?”

 _Damn it, Wang._ I mean, I wasn’t surprised. But I didn’t like everyone knowing my business, I’m perfectly happy with nobody really knowing who I am. As it is, whatever anonymity I had has been shot to hell since my freshman year no thanks to Mark, but his friends were definitely not helping.

“First Randy, now Jackson,” I mumbled bitterly. “The baseball team is full of big mouths.”

Amber shrugged. “Hey, he made me swear not to tell anyone. You know me.”

“I don’t know Jackson.” Even though everyone on campus definitely did.

“But I do,” she reassures me, “So don’t worry. He wouldn’t spread stuff around. Mark’s his best friend.”

“I guess.” I mean, it’s not like I have a choice.

“And you and Mark are supposedly friends now.”

I whip my head up so fast, I think I pulled at the knot that was in the back of my neck. But Amber shrugs, used to my withering glares and looks of utter contempt. Or bitterness, in this case, even though it’s rare they’re towards her. She’s usually watching me give it to somebody else.

“Trying to be friends,” I muttered lamely. “I think my dad almost scared his pants off.”

“Yeah, because Mark has such a hard time getting them off for everybody else,” she snickers. “This I gotta hear.”

“It was so awkward, you have no idea.”

My father was a really nice guy. He lives to make fun of me, but he was nice to all my friends when they did happen to meet him. Usually, they just can’t get over how young he looks and it kind of clicks that he had me young. Then they gush and gawk about how easygoing and chill he is, but it’s mostly because he makes fun of me.

🌙

_So when Mark, Yugyeom, and I walked into the Thai place near the train station, I almost didn’t recognize him. He had his arms crossed and his chest out against his button-down shirt (the “work” shirt). His tie was straightened and he had a bored look on his face._

_“Hey dad,” I greeted him tiredly and squeezed into the booth beside him. I expected him to make a big show of saying hi to me, his beloved daughter, the apple of his eye, the enemy to all men, or something like that._

_But all I got was a low, “Hey kid,” so something was definitely wrong._

_And when I looked up, he was glaring so hard at the boys, I almost saw where I got mine from._

_“So you’re the boy who’s been harassing my daughter for the past 2 years.”_

_I cringed so hard, I think I lost my spine sitting down next to him. Dad only ever spoke to one person like that and in Mark’s defense, even he didn’t deserve it. I remember glancing to Yugyeom across from me in a panic, but his eyes were glued to Mark. His mouth opened a little, but I doubt he knew what to say._

_I’d never seen anyone, not even someone as confident as Mark, just stop in his tracks like that. It was like a scene out of a movie. He stopped, for a good few seconds, looking like a deer in headlights before slowly sitting down. As if he seriously thought about just standing up half sat all night._

_If it weren’t for the noise, we probably could have heard him swallow. I watched his Adam’s apple sink. It was like watching one of those animal documentaries where the baby gazelle falls and tries to get up on its wobbling legs._

Yikes.

_“I-I’m sorry, sir—“_

_But my dad’s on him like a lioness, cutting him off, “What’s your name again?”_

_“Mark,” he blurts out instantly, looking like he was going to vomit. “My name’s Mark—“_

_“Mark what?”_

_“Mark, sir!”_

Oh my god.

_I look down at the table and try not to turn into a puddle on the floor because this was just so uncomfortable. I couldn’t believe of all the crazy, psycho, super overprotective fathers with a daughter complex out there, mine had turned into one. Where was he when Mark first started bothering me?_

_Wait, no, that’s important right now._

Why is he doing this now?!

_Was dad upset that we’d taken a while to get here? He said he’d wait for us, Mark didn’t even take that long in the shower. No way he invited us out here just to scare the guy like this. Not when he’d been so looking forward to meeting him. His “future son-in-law”._

_“Your last name is Sir?” He laughed, the only thing I recognized about him since we got here. “That’s pretty funny.”_

_And he just chuckled. Yugyeom looked at me and I looked at him. I looked at him as he looked at Mark. Mark looked like he needed to change his pants. The three of us were just – stunned, to absolute silence._

_“So you guys hungry? My treat, so don’t hold back.” He loosens his tie a little, smiling warmly. “It’s nice to finally meet the boy who’s keeping my scary daughter on her toes. You like baseball?”_

_And that’s when I finally got it. I hit my dad’s back so loud, the two across from us all stared at us. Me giving my father, my father who is_ a grown man _, an earful and him bursting into peals of laughter. He laughed so hard, he started_ screeching _. I hit him again._

🌙

“Your dad is hilarious.”

I grimace as Amber’s smile breaks into snickers. “Don’t encourage him, he feeds off of laughter.”

“And your embarrassment,” she points out all too happily.

“You’re so supportive of me and I love that about you.”

Her clapping drowns out her laughter and I’m thankful it’s just the two of us, and Joshua the latte boy, in our school’s knock-off Starbucks. Because truth be told, I was laughing with her now.

“See? You’re not fooling anyone,” Amber grins as I hide all evidence by taking a sip of my coffee. “You gotta admit, even if your dad was messing with you guys – a little payback isn’t so bad.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Not because I was annoyed; because she wasn’t wrong. I just didn’t want to be the one to admit it.

“Are you kidding? He’s had this a long time coming. And my dad wasn’t even serious. He acted like he’d never met anybody’s parents before.”

She doesn’t answer, so I blink at her and wait. But nothing. It’s rare for Amber Liu not to get the last word in.

“No way,” I laugh in disbelief. “Mark’s never met any of his ex-girlfriend’s parents?”

I watch as my friend looks away and leans back in her chair. She takes off her fitted cap to push her neatly cropped hair back before crossing her arms over her chest. Nothing.

“I call bullshit.”

“Don’t quote me on this, okay?” She shrugs, pursing her lips once. “Mark has this thing with parents, or – well, family, really. I dunno if he’s just not good with them or what, but if you ask him, he’ll tell you the same thing: he’s got his real family and his team, his friends. He doesn’t have time for more than that.”

“Sounds like an excuse to me.” And a shitty one at that. When things got serious and it came time to meet the parents, he just doesn’t have time. But he has the time to string people along like that?

It didn’t piss me off, I don’t really care. It just made sense; why his relationships never lasted. He couldn’t commit. Why else would he just cut things off with everyone he’s ever been with?

Everyone except—

“Well, he grew up with Holly. Who knows what the real story is, but hey,” Amber shrugs again. “If you really think about it, and I know you don’t, I just think he’s got his own issues.”

I nod. “We all do.”

The good thing about trying to be friends is not having to disclose my own to him. I don’t know Mark. He doesn’t know me. If he wants to, then that’s up to him, but we’ve agreed; if he crosses a line, we won’t have anything more to do with each other. He owes me that much.

Still, it was nice to see him squeal last night. Even though I wouldn’t have thought to get back at him at all, I’d be lying if I said he didn’t deserve it a little. Or that I didn’t secretly enjoy it. If I was vindictive, I’d probably have taken a photo.

🌙

_“Now I know where you get it from.”_

_“What?”_

_We stood outside the restaurant as my dad and Yugyeom went across the street for ice cream. It was only Mark and I now, which was weird to think about without sighing or bracing myself for the worst._

_Leaned against the walls of the restaurant, he watched as I paced along the entrance, carefully moving aside for people as they passed us. We stayed like that for a little while in silence, looking over now and again at the two of them. Somehow, it felt like part of a plan. Knowing my best friend, he probably talked dad into it._

_But I stopped when Mark spoke up. The only time Mark had ever been quiet when he and I were forced together was when he dropped me off to the train station that night._

_He doesn’t answer me, so I immediately assume he was just messing with me. But since today, when we talked about his unsavory behavior, I give him the benefit of the doubt; maybe he was thinking about what to say. He’s a lot quieter now that he’s not asking me out every other sentence._

_“I mean, that look you have when you get really annoyed.”_

Ah.

_I humor him, nodding. “Well, that’s my dad. We look alike. He’s young for a dad, I know.”_

_“I notice. But I was really scared, honestly.” He lets out a laugh, one of those short, but high-pitched ones, so I know it’s real. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”_

_“He’s such a – ugh, he’s like that,” I shake my head, “Don’t let him get to you.”_

_“No, it’s fine. That’s not what I was worried about.”_

_My brows knit together. “Then what scared you?”_

_His eyes meet mine. I watch them fall to my shoes. Or the ground. I stare at Mark staring at it before he raises his chin and tilts his head. He’s looking at me again. I look back, a few feet away, as people started walking around me in the middle of the street. I don’t really pay attention._

_“I guess, I just thought – I don’t know. I thought I wouldn’t…” He stops and starts glancing away from me._

_I shrug with my hands in my pockets. “Wouldn’t what?”_

_His mouth moves a little, but I can’t hear him. Was he talking to himself?_

_I walk towards him, catching just barely a mumble between his lips._

_“—anymore.”_

_“What?”_

_“Nothing.” Mark smiles automatically, shrugging back. “Nothing, I was just talking to myself. I – sometimes, I do that. When I’m nervous. Or thinking.”_

_I try not to frown. “Sorry. If I made you nervous. Or… think.”_

_“It’s nothing, really. It’s just – it’s not bad.”_

_He looks down at me and it registers in my mind that we are standing pretty close. And I didn’t feel like I needed to bounce ten feet back or punch him in the mouth. Maybe hell_ was _freezing over. It is pretty cold tonight._

_I look across the street at the corner store again. Yugyeom was at the register with a whole box of ice cream. Probably enough for all four of us._

_“I was just thinking—“_

_When I turn my head, all I see is Mark’s eyes following mine across the street. He’s not smiling, but he doesn’t look like Mark. That sounds completely crazy, but he just doesn’t look like any version of himself I’ve seen before._

_I know annoying, sleazy Mark who stopped at nothing to ask me out on a date at least once every day he sees me. I’ve met cold, turned off Mark whenever I’m skeptical of his work ethic. But that’s rare._

_Just recently, I learned that Mark could get angry. Not just a little mad, but really angry, and ready to fight his own friend for doing an awful thing to me._

_But Mark the way he looks now is new to me. Maybe a little familiar, but definitely new. I don’t know how to explain it, but then, I don’t really know what to call it._

_All I know is, I’ve never felt so far away from someone standing right in front of me. And I don’t know why I felt relieved when he looked back at me._

_“Don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not hitting on you. I swear,” he breathes out and I see the corner of his mouth tugging into an open smile. He really did have such pearly white teeth._

_“I was just thinking that I’m glad I got to meet your dad. Because he’s really cool and funny. And, you know…” His hand raises to rub the back of his neck, looking down at the floor again._

_“I guess I’m glad to know a little more about you. As a friend.”_

_I don’t know what to say to that. I know he’s complimenting me, but Mark was being sincere. That was still pretty new to me._

_“Well,” I paused, then managed a half-smile. “Thanks. From a friend.”_

_But it wasn’t bad. He was nice and he meant it. That’s all._

_“Your welcome,” he says softly and nods like he’s getting a feel for it. It’s reassuring to know, as the words roll off his tongue, that it was all new for him too._

_“From a friend.”_

_That’s all._

🌙

“What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing.”

I didn’t even notice I was. Probably a Christmas miracle. In spring. Stranger things have happened.Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/wangdeux) if you want, it's free!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And my hopes, they are high. I must keep them small. Though I try to resist, I still want it all.

Why does Mark even like me? I’m not asking because I think I’m so great or that he is either. He’s gotten better since we tried this whole “being friends” thing. He’s still got a long way to go before I could ever say that he’s great. I guess it has more to do with the fact that I’ve never had this experience until I met him.

Or really, I haven’t given it much thought.

Years ago, I used to think that my way of loving someone would be like how they showed it in the movies. There would be rain and somehow still warmth in the pits of the stomachs, down to our feet. An old park bench or a blanket on the grass with just the two of us sitting together, next to one another, wishing there was no one else that could make the other happy except for the person we were sitting beside. Sometimes, there was music too, the kind of slow, but merry song from a short film and it would play whenever they’re reminded of how beautiful the world would look through my eyes.

Years ago, I wasn’t as skeptical as I am now.

I came to realize, far too long after mom left, that my parents didn’t love each other. Dad had proposed because marrying her was the right thing to do and for her to say yes was the right thing to do. So, she said no because she didn’t love him. She knew he didn’t love her.

At some point, slowly and surely, I stopped trying to listen for music. I stopped picturing that park bench or blanket on the grass. It was, actually, pretty easy to forget those movies.

“My mom always had a strong sense of who she was and what she wanted. That’s what he tells me.”

I don’t know why I’m telling Mark. But as we drank coffee on the steps of the library, our work half-finished and in our lap, I couldn’t help feeling forlorn. Tired, almost.

After dinner with my dad, the two of us fell into an odd routine of not saying too much, but just enough. Mark would meet me in the library before we went around surveying the students who hadn’t gone away or left for home. Then we’d head back to the library or to the Starbucks on campus and record our findings, fix charts. All that fun stuff.

It was easier to talk now that he wasn’t asking me out with every other sentence that came out of his mouth. I didn’t have to choose my words so carefully and if I’m being honest, Mark wasn’t nearly as good at conversation if it didn’t include the word “date”. There was some comfort in knowing that he didn’t always have an answer for everything.

But he did usually have questions for me.

“So, it really is just you and your dad.” Something in his voice faltered slightly like he wasn’t sure if he should be saying more. “You don’t have to say anything, I just—I don’t want to assume. I mean, I know it’s my fault for making jokes without thinking, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” I shook my head. “You met my dad. And you’re friends with my best friend, so I’m sure you knew about him a little.”

“Still. I shouldn’t be joking about something I don’t know anything about.”

It had been a week since my dad utterly horrified and embarrassed us. Forget Mark, Yugyeom looked ready to wet himself seeing dad like that. All stern and irritated, nothing like his happy go lucky optimistic sitcom dad personality we all know and somehow love.

Besides, it wasn’t hard to miss the fact that besides Mark, nobody at the table even hinted at let alone asked about my mother. Thinking now, I wouldn’t know how to ask about her. Maybe that’s why I felt tired talking about her, to Mark Tuan of all people. Maybe that’s something to be sad about.

I let out a breath, something between the beginnings of a laugh that gave up before it could be heard.

“Well, you could be right.” My eyes averted to the bottom of the stairs, away from his face until it was out of my peripheral. “Maybe I’m intimidating because I take after her, not my dad.”

I tap my fingertips against the coffee cup and listen carefully to the silence that falls between us. No nervous chuckle or half-hearted joke. Not even a defeated sigh. He did that sometimes, I’ve started to notice.

Whenever Mark thinks he messed up or severely offended me, he would heave out a sigh that had his shoulders curling into a turtle shell I never knew he had. Like he could hide in it until he mustered up an apology. These days, he tipped his head to the side, blowing a small, sharp breath out silently.

But I get nothing this time. I can’t tell if that’s good or bad, but no matter what, I didn’t want his pity or his curiosity.

“You know—”

The sound of his voice makes my fingers press into the cup. I feel myself sitting up a little straighter. Walls up and ready for anything, as if I’d been steeling myself against this part of my day. What am I so afraid of?

Mark clears his throat and I watch him sit up a little, shrugging one shoulder “My dad goes away a lot, on work trips and stuff. And it’s kind of like, ‘Oh, big deal. Trust fund baby, daddy makes lots of money.’”

He shrugs again, but I narrow my eyes. Just a little bit. It wasn’t a secret that Mark came from a lot. Most of his friends did. So, what did I care?

As if he was reading my mind, he quickly clears his throat. “Which I’m not complaining or trying to brag about. And I’m not trying to compare us—you and me, I just—”

A silence I’m not sure is awkward or tense falls between us. His brows knit together, lips pursing and rubbing together like he wants to say something, so I wait.

“What I’ve been trying to say is—” Letting out something between a breath and an attempt at a smile, Mark shrugs for the umpteenth time. I’ve either been really mean to him or he really doesn’t know how to be around me yet.

“I don’t know what the situation is with your mom, but hanging out with your dad, I felt really glad. He’s such a cool guy and I can tell he really cares about you. And Gyeom too, and y’know, I—thanks.”

I feel myself wanting to smile. I don’t know what to make of this answer or this entire conversation, I don’t even know what Mark’s thanking me for. Was he trying to comfort me?

“For what?”

“Uh.” His head turns a little away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Letting me have dinner with you guys. Just letting me hang out and stuff.”

He’s not very good at expressing himself. In fact, I couldn’t help comparing him now to the Mark I’d seen just a little more than a week ago. On the baseball field, when Randy called him to take a microphone. Smiling with his perfect white teeth, winning everyone over with his easy energy and the crowd returning it with more. Every word that came out of his mouth infecting laughter.

But here he was, leaning his elbows back to rest on the stairs behind him. Sitting on the steps of the library next to me, one hand rolling a coffee cup in his hand and the other fussing with that hair again. His uniform was covered in yellow, orange dirt from practice and he needed a shower. Yet here he was, loitering at the library with me after hours of work we haven’t finished. Mark looked—

“It was nice. I felt like I was getting to know you.”

Different. He looked like he was thinking about something, staring out in front of him and somehow at ease. I followed his line of vision and couldn’t help wondering what caught his attention. Some part of me wanted to respond, still instinctively defensive, ready to shut down any thoughts he had in his head that this could be more than what it actually is. Whatever this is.

“As a friend.” Mark cleared his throat, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “I mean getting to know you as a friend. To be able to talk about this kind of thing with you and just, I guess—well, I don’t see my mom and dad all that much. Especially when I’m at school. So I’m grateful.”

I nod, not really knowing what else to say. I wasn’t sure what to think because I don’t really talk about myself to anybody. I never told somebody about my family and now that I have, it’s with Mark. And if I’m being honest, I had a feeling I’d regret it.

“You know something?”

But I was wrong.

He turned to look at me, eyes widening a fraction. Afraid I would say something scathing or scold him, maybe.

But when I turn to look back at him, before I could notice to stop myself; one corner of my mouth curled upwards. “You’re right. I’m lucky that my dad really cares about me.”

Maybe it was easy to forget about the movies and stop trying to listen for music, and it was easy for me to seem so sure of myself and stick to my guns because he was there to take care of me when my mother left. Wondering if my mom loved me always led back to the same old tired lonely place of wondering if _I_ even loved me. But my dad is always here to love me enough for the both of us.

Mark’s eyes slowly soften, his teeth letting go of his bottom lip to smile back. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I don’t even know what _I’m_ thinking.

Because everyone knew he was well off and had everything going for him; winter breaks skiing in Aspen with his friends, a house in LA. Star athlete, muddy reputation with the good looks and personality to trick people into forgetting it.

For a minute, I think it’s strange that he’s comforting me. In the next, I realize that maybe the boy who has everything thanked me because I gave him something he didn’t always have. Without noticing, it felt like a weight had lifted from my chest.

I wait for him to say something, like how he was good after all or that, see, he’s not such a bad guy.

But he doesn’t say anything and I look away, wondering if Mark is aware that he was being nice to me and I believed it. It was tempting to ask and I almost did. I would have if I hadn’t caught his on and off again, whirlwind romance bullshit girlfriend sauntering over to us from the corner of my eye.

“Hi, Mark.” Our easy silence was swept away like incoming tide as Holly made her way up the library steps, looking only at him. I didn’t have the patience to pretend to tolerate her.

My mind was replaying the day she tried to corner me in the bathroom after I’d cried because I was absolutely humiliated, and somehow the only thing she got from it was that she needed to assert her dominance.

What a joke.

_“You can have him.”_

Or I’m the joke because I know Mark is going to leave with her if that’s what she wanted – why else was she here if that’s not exactly what she wanted?

“Hey, Holly.” His voice is soft sitting a little away from me.

She smiles wider, lips curling like a cat that’s about to get her treat. “We missed you last night. What happened?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Just tired, I guess.”

Did her mouth just twitch? “You never miss a good time. Are you okay?”

“I had practice,” he said flatly, tilting his head to look up at her. His mouth is set in a thin line. “And other priorities.”

Holly scoffs. “Like what?”

I sneak a glance at Mark only to find that he had looked to me and then quickly back up at Holly. She shifted her weight from one leg to another and put a hand on her waist, raising one perfectly sculpted brow.

“Like our project? You know Y/N is right here.” I barely register the slight change in his voice, still soft, but firm now. He was getting annoyed. I felt dread pool in the pit of my stomach because I did not want to be in the middle of their weird back and forth. I can’t tell if they’re actually arguing, but I don’t want that tension directed towards me.

Holly scoffs again, suddenly looking like she’d rather be anywhere than here right now. Which, she technically could be. If she just – oh, I don’t know – walked away?

“Yeah, so?” I don’t know that was in response to the fact that he and I were still working or that I was, in fact, actually here. “Just do it later or something.”

_Bitch._

But her expression changes, the wrinkles on her head smoothing, her sneer replaced with a slow, easy smile. “Let’s do something fun. You owe me for last night.”

“Holly,” Mark says slowly as he sits up straight on the steps. “Look at me. I’m covered in mud, I haven’t showered yet.”

Her smile widens. “Then let’s get you showered.”

 _Gross._ I looked away from both of them because I was starting to feel both disgusted and insulted at this point. A shiver suddenly ran up the length of my back before I could stop to hide it. But there was a bitter taste in my mouth as I remembered exactly why I never gave Mark a chance.

His friends.

Even if he wasn’t a bad guy, they were all like this. Holly and her clique, Randy, Andrew, and that entire group. They didn’t care who they hurt.

What Randy did to me that day, I would let go of because I didn’t have to see or be around him ever again if I don’t want to. But I felt an overwhelming sort of sympathy for Yugyeom. My best friend _had_ to hang out with guys like him. Cleaning up after their messes after hours of practice. Does he even know they take advantage of him? Or was he happy to do it because they pretended to accept him?

He would never say anything, but it was easy to tell even from the way he talked to me about how practice would go that those so-called teammates didn’t respect him. And I couldn’t ever respect that.

I also couldn’t respect Mark for how he let them get away with it. How can he even be friends with people like that and still try to tell someone like me that he’s a good person? And I’d said it before, but I was glad that they don’t like me. They were awful, but at least I didn’t have to get up every day and be Mark. I would never be able to accept that.

In this moment too. I couldn’t look at Mark. I didn’t even want to look at Holly, but I couldn’t look at him. My dad always taught me that you are the company you keep. It takes courage to stand up to your bullies, but you have to be even braver to stand up against your friends.

This isn’t the first time that I’m reminded of why I’ve been so dead set on never getting to know Mark; it’s because all this time, I’d never seen him stand up against his own friends.

“Holly, I told you. I’m busy.” His voice cut through the silence, low and indifferent.

But it’s the first time I’ve felt some disappointment for it. As I took a breath, I’m surprised that my chest felt heavy. I needed to get out of here. I really wanted to get away.

Almost indifferent. “Maybe next time.”

So, I did.

I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder as I got up, not wanting to be around for the rest of this stupid conversation they were having. I’m not too proud to lie and say that Holly talking to Mark like I wasn’t there didn’t hurt me because it did and I know she meant it to. But what I’m too indignant and, honestly, just confused about is why I felt so disappointed.

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times. It takes a lot more than being a little nice or doing the right thing for once to erase all the bad things Mark has done to me before. I shouldn’t be surprised by this. I’m not.

_“Thank you.”_

My feet feel light as I stop. I hadn’t gotten that far from them, but I just—I wanted to stop. I needed to think. Or not think. I don’t know, but all I can hear is him thanking me before Holly showed up. When I started feeling low like I was sinking because we were talking about my mom and how she wasn’t here. And how I kept thinking a part of me is still hurt by that and the other part was scared that Mark would learn that about me.

Because how can someone who has everything possibly know how that feels?

_“Just letting me hang out and stuff. It was nice.”_

I’m not sure if Mark has ever known how that feels.

_“I felt like I was getting to know you.”_

At that moment, I almost wanted to tell him. I was too shocked to think of anything else to say because it would be said to him, someone I had never even wanted to be friends with. I’d wanted to thank him for reminding me what I already have.

I thought about turning around to see if they were still there, arguing or whatever it was they were doing. Why am I even thinking about it? It’s not like it mattered anymore, I already walked away. So I should keep walking.

Before I could take it back, I was looking over my shoulder. I turned on my heel just as my phone vibrated in my pocket, my hand feeling for it instinctively.

Mark was looking back at me. Holly had her arm hooked around his and my back to me, pulling him in the opposite direction. He was getting farther and farther as they walked down the stairs of the library, too far for me to really see his face. I doubt I would have been able to read him anyway, but he was looking at me.

I turned away first, not knowing what to make of that, what to make of anything that happened in the last hour. Hurrying away, I brought my phone out to check the bus times, but as soon as it lit up, my eyes were scanning through the message I’d just gotten.

 __J E R K  
sorry about today, I’ll make up the work.  
I’m really sorry. please don’t finish it all  
by yourself. I’m so sorry.

I still haven’t changed Mark’s name in my phone.

_ J E R K  
can I make it up to you later? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/wangdeux) if you want, it's free!

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/feraljackson) or [tumblr](https://yves-saintlaurtuan.tumblr.com/) if you want, it's free!


End file.
